Fireside
by xtinna
Summary: Things are getting freaky in the snoozefest town of Beacon Hills. When her friend Scott McCall becomes a werewolf, Camille Theodore realizes that her life would never be the same. Join Camille and the gang as they fight to stay "normal" as the world of werewolves enter their lives. Eventual OCxIsaac pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello! This is my attempt at a Teen Wolf fanfic. I have ideas in mind on how this story will go. Hopefully you guys like it and please, if you can, review? I would appreciate it a lot! And thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Teen Wolf or any of the ideas/characters.

* * *

_A girl's head popped outside the doorway, her eyes trying to adjust to the dark hall. Creaks sounded through the empty house. Foolishly, she walked out to the hall and called out, "Hello? Is someone here?" _

"_Mom? Dad?" she continued._

_A dark shadow ran by, but she only saw red eyes. Before she realized it, hands wrapped around her neck and-  
_

A loud bang from the window made me jump, causing me to nearly knock down my laptop that was playing a horror film. I sighed in annoyance once I saw who was at my window.

Hands on my hips, I walked over to the closed window. "What do you want, Stiles?"

"Can you open the window? I don't think the branch can hold me up much longer," his voice was muffled through the glass. I rolled my eyes, but did so anyway.

"That's because you don't know the meaning of a door. Now, may I ask what you're doing here?"

"You know, that hurts, Chameleon. And here I thought I would invite you to this awesome adventure with our boy Scotty, but you can forget about it—"

"Okay then, bye—"

"No! Wait! Please, Cam! It'll be fuuuuuun!"

"I'm having fun here! In my room and away from the cold."

"Fun? Watching a scary movie you've seen like a hundred times? This is how you want to spend your last night of summer vacation?" He scoffed. "Look, how's this for fun—my dad just left. They're bringing in everyone from the department and even state police. A dead body was found in the woods."

"No."

"Wait, 'no' like 'OMG no way!' or like 'no', you won't go?"

"No, like no."

"But you didn't hear the best part!"

"I don't think there can be a 'best part' in this situation, Stiles."

"Not only is there a dead body, but they only found half! So come on! Put some shoes on and we'll go pick up Scott!"

"So what you're saying is that you want to go into the woods to find half a body? Do you even know which half?"

"Well . . . not exactly, but-"

"No can do, bud. I'm staying here. Do you know how pissed your dad will be when he finds out we're there? I'll see you at school tomorrow. And please, don't get yourself or Scott killed."

"Fine, but you'll regret this!" Stiles pointed at me. I rolled my eyes and pushed him off the tree branch. He landed on his back with a thud.

"Ow! I'm okay if you even care, you horrible person!"

"Goodbye Stiles!" I closed the window and returned to the movie.

Sophomore year was starting tomorrow at Beacon Hills High School. Oh joy. Another year of boring teachers, loads of homework, and an uneventful time. Let the games begin.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Hello readers! Originally I wanted to do the whole first episode in one chapter (so like one chapter per episode), but damn. That's a lot in a chapter. So I decided to only post half and the other one would _hopefully _be posted by this weekend.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Teen Wolf or any of the ideas/characters.

* * *

"_Heeeeeeeello Beacon Hills! Are your kids ready for another year of school? Are YOU ready? Today will be a beautiful 73 degrees—" _

I swatted at the alarm clock and knocked it off the table. I snuggled deeper under my blankets and was falling back asleep before I had another wake up call.

"Camille! Wake up, you'll be late for school!" I grunted.

"Now, Camille! Before I make you walk to school, young lady!"

"Okay, mom! I'm up, I'm up! Don't have a cow!"

I brushed my teeth and quickly changed into a floral skirt with tights and a black-cropped top. Layering it with a jean jacket, I slipped on a pair of ankle boots. I applied minimal amount of makeup and left my long, blonde hair straight.

I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs, only stopping once I reached the kitchen. I ran out of the door with my mother in tow and jumped into her car. After my mom dropped me off, I stepped out and scanned the lot. I saw Stiles and Scott by the bike rack and I walked over to them, just in time to see Scott lifting up his shirt.

"Whoa there, boys! Am I interrupting something?" I said teasingly. I looked down and saw a bloody patch covering most of Scott's stomach. "What the _fuck_ did you guys do last night?!"

"My dad caught me in the woods last night and made me go home. Scotty here stayed behind and was bitten by something."

" . . . So you just left your best friend out there alone, in the woods, with the murderer on the loose?"

"Cam, I think you're missing the major point here . . . Scott got bit by something!"

I slapped Stiles behind his head and turned back to Scott, "So what happened?"

"It was too dark to really see, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf." Stiles and I looked at each other.

"A wolf?"

"Yeah. And I heard one howling, so it has to be, right?"

"Uh, no you didn't. That's impossible." Stiles shook his head.

"Well I know what I heard, Stiles," Scott said defensively.

"Scott, he's right," I started. He narrowed his eyes at me, "—it's just, California doesn't have wolves . . . not for like sixty years or so."

"Fine, well if you guys don't believe me about the wolf, you definitely won't believe me when I say that I found the body. "

"No way, you're kidding!" "Gross!" Stiles and I exclaimed at the same time. Both boys ignored me.

"Yeah, I'll be having nightmares for a month."

"Oh God, that's freaking awesome! That's seriously the most awesome thing that's happened in this town since—since the birth of Lydia Martin," Stiles' eyes were glued on Lydia as she walked on by us, "—hey Lydia! You look . . . like you're gonna ignore me."

Lydia ignored him, as usual, but turned and smiled at me, "See you in class, Camille?" Before I can answer, she walked into the school.

"Okay, how is it that _you're _friends with Lydia and she won't even look at me?"

"Well, Stiles, I think that you keep forgetting that my mom is best friends with Mrs. Martin. And I don't think that's the tone you should be using; considering I'm the only connection you have with your crush. Well beside Jackson, of course. But we all know how you feel about him." I patted him on the shoulder and left for my locker.

Behind me I can hear Stiles complain to Scott, "You're dragging me down to your nerd depths! Because of you, I'm a nerd by association. I'm officially scarlet-nerded by you."

_Boys. _

_Locker 204 . . . _

I scanned the rows of lockers before reaching my destination. I unlocked the locker with the passcode written on my schedule. With my English textbook in hand, I walked to class. The classroom was still fairly empty and I took a seat in the middle, by the windows. Scott and Stiles came in a few minutes later and took their seats beside me.

Mr. Myers walked in with a bored expression on his face and passed out the syllabus.

"As I'm sure you all know, there was a body found in the woods last night. And while I'm sure that your eager little minds are coming up with scenarios as to what happened, I am here to inform you that the police already have a suspect in custody. So, you can now give your undivided attention to the syllabus which was passed out to you."

I turned behind me and looked at Stiles, silently questioning him if Myers was right about the suspect in custody. He replied with a shrug. I looked over to my right at Scott who had a weird look on his face.

The door opened and the principal walked in with a girl in tow. "Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

Allison sat down behind Scott and he turned around handing her a pen. She thanked him and the two shared a smile.

"Class, we will begin with Kafka's _Metamorphosis_, on page 133."

After school, I returned to my locker to grab the books I needed for homework tonight.

"Oh, come on!" A voice said beside me. Allison was standing at the locker three doors down from mine. After another attempt she cried out again, "This can't be happening to me . . . "

"Hey, Allison?" I asked as I approached her. She pushed her dark hair away from her face before looking at me.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, you're in my English class, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Camille. Here, I had that locker last year," I entered the code and after the third number, I leaned against the locker a bit before unlocking the lock. "You have to lean on it after you're done with the numbers, otherwise it won't open."

"Thank you so much! It would've taken me forever—and that would be a great way to end my first day."

"Don't worry about it, unfortunately for me, it took me weeks to figure that trick out."

"That jacket is absolutely _killer_," complimented Lydia when she walked up to us. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh," Allison flushed, "My mom was a buyer for a boutique back when we lived in San Francisco."

"And you are my new best friend," giggled Lydia, "I see that you've met Camilla here. The three of us will totally rule the school this year."

Jackson Whittemore, Lydia's boyfriend, walked up behind her and the two kissed. Allison and I awkwardly made eye contact before I pretended to vomit at the couple's PDA. Allison shot me a small smile.

"Allison, this is my boyfriend, Jackson. Jackson, this is Allison. She just moved here from San Francisco!

So there's this party this weekend." Lydia told us.

"A party?"

"Yeah, Friday night. You girls should come," Jackson offered.

"Oh, uh, I can't—family game night every Friday . . . Thanks for asking though." Allison shot them a weak smile.

"You sure? Everyone is going after the scrimmage."

"Scrimmage? Like football?" Allison questioned.

Jackson scoffed, "Football is a joke in this town. We play lacrosse. We've won state for the past three years."

"Only because of a certain team captain," Lydia beamed at her boyfriend.

"We have practice in a few minutes if you want to come watch—that is if you don't have anywhere else to be."

"Well—actually, I was going to—"

"Perfect!" Lydia interrupted, "You're coming with us." Lydia grabbed our hands and we walked down to the field together.

We sat down on the bleachers and I leaned over to Allison, "Don't worry about Lydia, you'll learn to get used to her." She giggled and nodded her head.

Allison's eyes scanned the field before they focused on the brown haired Scott McCall.

_A girl is interested in Scott? My baby boy is growing up this year! _

"MCCALL!" Coach Finstock yelled and threw Scott the goalie equipment.

"COME ON, COACH! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! HE'S NOT GOALIE MATERIAL! HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? HE SUCKS!" I screamed at him. I ignored Scott's yell of, "Hey!" from the field.

"THEODORE LET ME DO MY JOB!" I scowled at him and slumped back against the bleachers.

_Riiiiiight cause you're such a great coach . . . _

"Who is that?" Allison asked looking at Scott.

"Him? I'm not too sure who he is . . . I've never seen him around before." Lydia answered, "Why?"

"Nothing, he just, uh, he's in my English class."

"That's Scott McCall. He's a good friend of mine," I told Allison. She blushed and turned back to the players.

The assistant coach blew his whistle and Scott held his head in . . . pain? Soon, the players lined up in front of him and took turns throwing the ball.

_Oh this won't be pretty . . . _

The first player released the ball and hit Scott right in front of his helmet. Everyone laughed. The line continued and Scott miraculously caught the ball. Scott then caught the next few balls perfectly and I'm sure everyone on the field could see that Jackson was getting pissed. He stepped in front of the kid up next and it was like the whole crowd froze to watch this moment.

"I can't watch this, I can't watch this," I murmured, looking between my fingers.

Jackson hurled the ball to the next and . . . Scott caught the ball!

"WOOOOO! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" I screamed in delight. Lydia stood on her feet to cheer while Allison beamed at Scott.

"THAT'S MY FRIEND!" Stiles yelled from the bench.

"MINE TOO!" I yelled, and ran over to Stiles. We both jumped up and down in celebration.

After the scrimmage, I said goodbye to Allison and Lydia. I joined Scott and Stiles as they went into the woods to find Scott's inhaler.

"I-I don't know how I did it! It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball," Scott told us. "And that's not it! I can smell and hear things I shouldn't be able to—"

"Smell things? Like what?" Stiles scrunched his face in doubt.

"The mint mojito gum in your pocket," he answered.

Stiles gave him a look, "Mint mojito? I can't even remember when I—" but stopped short when he pulled out a slightly unwrapped, lint covered mint mojito gum.

"How long do you think that's been there?" I questioned, inspecting the gum some more.

He shrugged and sniffed it. Deciding it was still edible, he started to unwrap it, but I swatted it to the ground.

"HEY! I was going to eat that!"

"You're disgusting, Stiles! You can't even remember the last time you had one!"

"Why do you keep holding me back, woman?!"

"Can you two stop it?" Scott groaned. He was already several feet in front of us.

"So all this started with the bite?"

"Yeah, what—what if it's like an infection or something? Like my body is rushing with adrenaline before I go into shock or something, ya know?"

"You know what, I think I've actually heard of something like this before. It's a specific kind of infection." Stiles began. Scott and I looked at him in confusion.

"A-Are you serious?" Scott stopped in front of us.

"Yeah, yeah, I think it's called . . . lycanthropy."

_You are an idiot, Stiles. _

"What's that? Is that bad?" Scott freaked out and looked at Stiles with wide eyes.

_Okay, scratch that. You're an idiot, Scott. _

"Oh yeah, it's the worst. But luckily for you, it's only once a month."

"Once a month?"

"Mmhm," Stiles nodded his head, "On the night of the full moon." He howled. Scott shoved him away before turning back around and searched for his inhaler.

"Hey! You're the one who heard a wolf howling." Stiles laughed.

"Dude! There can be something seriously wrong with me and you're making fun of my condition!"

"I know! You're a werewolf!" Stiles pretended to growl like a wolf. Okay, it was more like a baby one. "Okay, obviously I'm kidding, but if you happen to see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's because Friday's the full moon."

We came to a stop and Scott looked around, "I swear this is it. This is where I saw the dead body . . . the deer came running and I dropped my inhaler." He dropped to a squat and moved the leaves around.

"Maybe the killer moved it with the body?" I suggested, staring up at the sky. Can someone explain to me again why I don't like nature, again? It's actually not too bad . . .

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler! Those cost like eighty bucks, my mom will kill me!"

I looked down from the sky and scanned the area around us. I jumped when I saw the figure dressed in black standing several feet away from us.

"WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?" Scott and Stiles turned and faced him. "Nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"What are you doing here?" None of us answered him, "Huh? This is private property."

"Uh, sorry, we- we didn't know," Stiles said.

"Yeah, we were just looking for something, but . . ." The mysterious guy looked at us in a weird, intimidating way. "Forget it."

Mysterious guy reached into his pocket and threw Scott his inhaler and walked away.

"Whoa, Scott. Maybe something is wrong with you . . . Last time I threw the remote at you, it hit your face and resulted in a black eye," I said astonished.

"Alright guys, I have work, let's go—"

"Guys! Do you know who that was? That's Derek Hale! You guys remember, right? He's only a few years older than us—his family? They all burned to death in that crazy house fire, like ten years ago!"

"So what's he doing back?" Scott wondered out loud.

"That's terrible! Who would _want _to come back after that?" I looked at the direction Derek disappeared to. From the distance I swear I saw a pair of red eyes staring back at me.

_What the fuck is that? _

Stiles waved his hand in front of me and the eyes were gone. Weird.

"Chameleon! Yoohoo! You in there?" I raised my eyebrows at him, "Let's gooooo! Scott has work."

I turned around and took a step forward, but stepped on a pile of deer droppings. "Hey guys? We have a problem."

"You need to cut back on the pizza," Stiles grunted when we reached his car at the school lot. After I had stepped on the droppings, Stiles reluctantly agreed to give me a piggyback ride.

"You're the one that insisted on ordering three large pizzas the other week," I glared at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Get in the car," he grumbled and got into the drivers seat.

After a long day of school, I grabbed my book bag and made my way through the school halls. My stomach growled out of hunger . . . which wouldn't have been as embarrassing if the hallway was _completely _empty. I blushed when I made eye contact with the curly haired boy standing by his locker. Suddenly, Greenberg ran through the halls, bumping into me and knocking down my bag.

"Sorry, late for practice!" he yelled back.

"SCREW YOU, GREENBERG!" I huffed and bent down to pick up my fallen items. When I reached for my Spanish book, another hand reached for it too. I looked up and saw the curly haired boy. Standing up at the same time, we bumped heads and I felt an immediate pain on my face.

"O-Oh God! I'm s-sorry!"

Blood dripped from my nose and all over my white blouse. I dropped my items again and pinched my nostrils together and tilted my head up.

"Uh, it's f-fine," I tried to ignore the stinging in my eyes; "I just need to clean up in the restroom . . ." I walked away in a direction before a hand stopped me.

"It's t-the other way," he said. He helped me to the restroom, but stayed outside.

After a few minutes, my face was clean, but I had a huge bloodstain on my top. I knew I couldn't remove it with water, so I left the restroom. I was surprised, however, that the boy stayed outside the door with my bag next to him on the floor.

Looking anywhere but at me, he handed me my bag and apologized again. I brushed it off with a small smile and took the bag from him. "I'm Camille," I said as I hiked my bag up my shoulder.

"I-Isaac. I'm Isaac Lahey." He blushed and ran his hand through his hair. The sleeve of his hoodie slid up and revealed a bruise on his arm. He immediately realized and quickly dropped his hand. He seemed to answer the question I was asking from my head, "It's f-from lacrosse."

"I'll see you around?" with another smile in his direction, I rounded the corner of the hallway and saw Jackson at Scott's locker.

"Why don't you tell me where you're getting your juice?" Jackson sneered at him.

"What?" Scott was incredibly confused.

"Where. Are. You. Getting. Your. Juice." Jackson repeated.

"I don't know? My mom does the grocery shopping?"

_Oh, Scott. You're so cute. And stupid. _

"Listen, McCall. You better tell me where you're buying from because there is no way in hell that you're kicking ass out there on the field without some sort of chemical boost."

"Oh!" realization shone in Scott's eyes, "You mean steroids! Are you on steroids?!"

Suddenly, Jackson slammed Scott against the lockers, "What the hell is going on with you, McCall?!"

"What's going on with me?! What's going on with me?! You really want to know? You know what? Well so would I! I can—I can hear and smell things that I shouldn't be able to hear or smell! I do things that should be impossible- I'm sleepwalking and waking up three miles in the middle of the woods. And I'm totally convinced that I'm out of my _freakin' _mind!" Scott let out a sigh of relief.

"You think you're funny," Jackson scoffed, "I know you're hiding something and I will find out. I don't care how long it takes." He punched the locker behind Scott's head and with another punch on Scott, he walked away, too angry to notice that I was there when he passed me.

Once he was out of earshot, I ran towards Scott, "What the hell was that?"

"I don't—what happened to you?" Scott gestured to my bloody top.

"Long story short, _stupid _Greenberg ran into me and knocked my things down. Some guy helped me but we bumped heads, which resulted in this. Now enough about me! You have practice to get to, superstar."

So what sort of breakdown was that?" I teased, but he only walked ahead of me to the lacrosse field. Before Scott could join the team, Stiles ran up to us, struggling to catch his breath.

"Guys, you wouldn't . . . hold on—" he took a several deep breaths, "Fiber analysts came back from the labs; they found animal hair from the body they found in the woods!"

Scott wasn't paying attention and picked out his lacrosse equipment, "Stiles, I gotta go."

"Wait Scott! You're not going to believe what the animal was!" But it was useless as Scott ran out to the field.

"Sooooo," Stiles looked over at me in defeat. "What did they find?"

"Wolf hair."

"Like _aroooooooo_, wolf?" I imitated a wolf's howl.

"Yup."

"Shit. _Of course_ this would happen to us," I walked away from Stiles and sat down next to Allison on the bleachers.

* * *

**A/N**: I hope the chapter wasn't too bad! Thanks again for reading! And major thanks to ** . ** for reviewing and the others who added the story to their alert list! _  
_

Please review if you can!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Sup, readers! Here is chapter 3 and this will complete the first episode of Teen Wolf. I hope you guys enjoy it! It's not that long considering it's like the 3/4 of the episode.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Teen wolf or any of the ideas/characters.

* * *

"MCCALL! GET OVER HERE!" Coach Finstock yelled, "What the hell was that? Are you trying out for the gymnastics team? This is a lacrosse field!"

Today Scott will find out if he'll make first line for the lacrosse team this year. This is also when Stiles would be reminded to stay as a benchwarmer. Scott pulled some ninja-gymnastics move and flipped over a player and scored a goal.

"I-I don't know, I was just trying to make the shot . . ."

"Yeah, you made the shot. And guess what? You're starting! You made first line, buddy!" Coach patted Scott on the arm while the crowd cheered from the stands.

_This is not good . . . but damn, werewolf powers are awesome! _

From the bench, Stiles turned and looked at me. Even from this distance I read his face loud and clear: _we need to talk_

* * *

"Did ya find anything yet?" I asked Stiles. We were in his room researching about werewolves. Okay, _fine_, Stiles was researching while I was upside down on his bed and texting Allison.

'_Are you going to the party tonight? Scott asked me the other night. Please tell me you're going…'_

"Hey Stiles? Did you know that Scott asked Allison to the party?"

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled distractedly, "Wait, I think I found something . . . "

'_Uh, don't know? Maybe. What are you going to wear? Don't get him too excited ;)' _

It was quiet until a loud knocking interrupted the silence. Stiles jumped and cleared his throat. He expected it to be his dad, but jumped when he saw Scott instead.

"Get in," Stiles ordered.

"So what's up, guys? Why did you call me over?" asked Scott

"You gotta check this out—I've been reading websites and books—"

"How much Adderall have you had today?" teased Scott, seeing how jittery Stiles was.

"Don't worry about that—"

"A lot," I said, looking at Scott, "Lost track after seven."

"It doesn't matter!" Stiles said exasperated.

"Touchy! I'm going to look for food," I left the room hoping to find some chips around the Stilinksi household. After opening many cabinets, which were either empty or had expired food, I found the jackpot: a bag of Doritos.

I took my time walking back to Stiles' room, but then I heard Scott yell, "NO! GIVE IT TO ME!"

I ran up the stairs and dropped the Doritos bag when I saw Stiles up against the wall and Scott push the computer chair away. He breathed heavily until he looked up at me and turned to Stiles. "I-I'm sorry," he apologized to Stiles before grabbing his backpack and approached me at the doorway.

He halted when he saw me flinch against the doorframe and turned to Stiles once more and apologized. He squeezed by me, making sure not to touch me. Stiles and I didn't move until we heard the front door slam.

"A-Are you okay, Stiles?" He breathed deeply through his nose before nodding his head and bent down to pick up the fallen chair.

"Cam, you have to see this!" Stiles turned the chair around to show me the claw marks on the back of the seat.

"Whoa, what did you say to him? Did you say something inappropriate about Allison or something?" He glared at me. I picked up the Doritos and silently offered him some as a peace offering.

"No, I didn't," he huffed. "But we have to stop him at the party tonight."

_Damn Stiles, I haven't seen you this serious since . . . _

"Is this your way of asking me to go with you on a date," I fluttered my eyes at him before I grabbed my stuff. "Take me home, I have to look hot tonight."

* * *

I showered and changed into a black summer dress paired with a thick cardigan. I applied my makeup and slipped on my flats.

"And may I ask where you're going tonight?"

"Party at Jackson's tonight."

"A party?" Mom sat down on my bed and looked at me with her brows raised, "Did a boy invite you or is Lydia forcing you to go again?"

"Nope," I fluffed my hair again, "Stiles is picking me up."

"You guys are being . . . _safe_, right?"

"Uh, yeah mom. We wear seatbelts in the car."

"That's not what I meant. Are you guys having safe sex?"

I turned and faced her with a disgusted look. "MOM! This is _Stiles _we're talking about! We're not dating! He-he's like a brother, you know that!"

She held up her hands defensively. "Geez, I was just making sure you're being safe!"

Before I could say anything else, Stiles honked outside.

"See ya later, mom." I said, grabbing my phone before heading out to the hallway. She followed me out to the front door.

"Don't stay out too late. And if any of you kids drink, call me and I'll pick you guys up, okay?"

"Will do, mama."

* * *

Stiles parked down the street from Jackson's house and he told me the game plan. "Okay, so we're going to find Scott and we'll try to get him far away from Allison."

" . . . But what do we do if he wolfs out on us?"

"I haven't thought that far into the plan yet . . . " I rolled him and entered the house.

_Typical Stiles. _

Teenagers were dancing along to the music and the tables were filled with alcohol bottles. The scent of sweat lingered in the air. I scanned the crowd, but couldn't find Scott anywhere.

"I'll check outside," I told Stiles when he caught up with me. He nodded his head and went off in a direction.

I breathed in the fresh air of the backyard. The scene was similar to the one inside, except for the swimming pool.

"Camille! You made it!" Allison exclaimed when she walked up to me. Scott was behind her, but kept his distance because of what happened earlier this afternoon.

"How's the date going?" I whispered into her ear when I hugged her. She blushed and gave me a shy smile.

"Hey, can you go with me to the bathroom?" I had to get her away from Scott for the night, no matter how bad I feel about it. She bit her lip and looked between Scott and I. She gave me an apologetic smile and grabbed Scott's arm.

"Actually, we're going to go dance right now." She smiled once more and walked away with Scott.

_Damn it, I really need to work on my persuasion skills. _

I stood by the drinks table and kept my eyes on the couple. The two seemed to enjoy each other's company, so I let them have their moment before texting Stiles. A barking dog caught my attention and I looked behind me. It became silent and a figure turned to look at me. It was the same one from the woods.

_What is Derek Hale doing at a high school party? _

We made eye contact before Lydia stumbled over to me.

"Camille!" she giggled and grabbed my hands, "I'm—I'm so glad you're here!"

"Scott!" Allison yelled at him. He went inside the house and disappeared.

"Lydia, drink some water, okay? I'll be right back," I handed her a water bottle before I walked over to Allison.

"What happened to Scott?" She looked at me with tears in her eyes.

"I-I don't know," I looked around for Stiles.

"Let's go find Stiles and he'll take you home," she nodded and together we went inside. We walked out to the front just in time to see Stiles speed off in his jeep, chasing after Scott's car.

"YOU'RE MY RIDE, STILES!" I yelled after him.

"Now what? What's going on, Camille?" Allison asked.

_Damn. Okay, I have to cover for Scott . . ._

"Oh, right! We had some fish tacos today for lunch . . . they must've ate a bad batch. Must be some crazy diarrhea," She wrinkled her nose in disgust before slowly nodding her head.

"Should we head back inside and find a ride home?"

"I can call my mom—"

"Camille. Allison," Derek said behind us. "I'm Scott's friend. On his way out, he asked me if I could take you two home."

I knew Allison didn't care as long as she was home . . . I would call my mom, but it is getting late. I reluctantly nodded and we followed him to his car. I let Allison sit in the front since her house was closer than mine.

Other than the sound of Allison directing Derek, the ride was silent. After a few moments, we pulled up to her house.

"Want me to stay over tonight? Girls night?" She smiled weakly at me before shaking her head.

"No, I'd rather be alone tonight. Thanks though. I'll see you at school Monday," She thanked Derek and closed the door. We watched as she walked into her house.

"Are you going to move to the front?" Derek turned and faced me with raised brows.

"I'm good right here. We can pretend that you're my driver." He narrowed his eyes.

"Right, I'll go now—" I fumbled with the seat lever to move the passenger seat forward. Once I settled into the seat, he immediately started to drive. I absentmindedly told him the directions to my house.

"Why did you lie and say that you're friends with Scott?" I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

"You care about him, right?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"Well yeah—he's a good friend of mine, but that doesn't answer my question—"

"If you really care for him, don't let him play lacrosse and definitely don't let him see Allison anymore."

"Why do you care so much? We don't even know you."

"Look Camille, there are just some things you're better off not knowing."

The car pulled up to my house. Both my parent's cars were home, but the only light on was the porch light. I thanked Derek before I stepped out of the car and walked toward the house. He didn't leave until I walked inside. It wasn't until I entered my room that I realized something.

_How the hell did he know my name?_

* * *

"You know what bothers me the most?" asked Scott.

Stiles groaned, "If you say Allison, I'm going to push you out of this car—I hope you remember to tuck and roll!"

"She probably hates me now."

"I doubt that. Luckily for us two, our charming Chameleon told her that we had explosive diarrhea from fish tacos or something."

Scott groaned and hit his head against the passenger window.

"Yup. I know. Why are we friends with her again? Her hot older sister moved out _years_ ago."

* * *

**A/N**: What did you guys think? Good, bad, boring? Please review! I would love to know what you guys think.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Hello! Here's chapter 4, which focuses on episode 2. I don't feel too good about this chapter, but I've been working on it for awhile and I thought I'll might as well post it.

** . **: thank you for reviewing twice! I appreciate it a lot! I kind of have an idea of whether or not I'll keep her human or turn her to a werewolf. I don't think I'll put much romance as far as the first season goes. Since I'm making it an OCxIsaac story, I'm way too unoriginal so I can't think of much interaction with Isaac. I hope you're enjoying the story and thanks again!

* * *

'_We have an emergency!' _

I read the text from my phone and rolled my eyes, _'No Stiles, I'm not letting you borrow $10 again. You still haven't paid me back, btw!' _

I leaned against the bleachers and scanned the crowd. Allison had some family business to take care of and Lydia left before I could ask her for a ride home. Luckily for me, I had to wait until lacrosse practice was finished . . . alone.

'_No, a wolf emergency; tell you after practice.' _

The boys walked out to the field and Jackson was playing defense. Scott was knocked down to the ground by Jackson. After getting yelled and talked down by Finstock, he returned to the front of the line.

"MCCALL'S GONNA DO IT AGAIN! LET'S GO!" Scott weaved through the players and rammed into Jackson. Jackson fell down, holding onto his shoulder. Scott landed on his knees, holding his head. The team and Finstock crowded around an injured Jackson while Stiles and Scott rushed to the locker room.

_What the hell? _

"What have I told you about letting him play?" a voice demanded angrily beside me.

"HOLY-" Derek stood beside me, glaring at me, "Dude, are you even allowed to be on campus?!"

"Did you not hear what I said Friday night?"

I coughed, "Oh, uh . . . well you know, I'm just a teenager . . . I don't think it's appropriate for me, of all people, to you know . . . " his glare intensified, "tell a newly transformed werewolf that he can't play a sport that he—_ahem_, loves?"

He ignored my _hopefully _innocent smile and Finstock's yelling caught my attention. Another lacrosse player helped escort Jackson to the nurse's office. I turned back to Derek, "Hey, does that mean you're a—"

But he was gone.

* * *

"What did you find out?" Scott asked

"Well, according to our insider, Jackson has a separated shoulder."

"Because of me?!"

"_No_, because he's a tool."

"_Technically_ it was Scott's fault," I mumbled to Stiles, who only shushed me.

"Is he going to be able to play?"

"Don't know yet, but for now, they're counting on you for Saturday."

"I saw Derek today," I said casually, flipping through a magazine.

Stiles quickly turned from the computer and faced me.

_Hm, I was hoping he would fall over . . . _

"Wh-what! And you're telling me this now?"

"Didn't think it was a big deal. Anyways, he told me to stop Scott from playing at the lacrosse game. Or maybe it was lacrosse in general—I can't remember."

"What did she say?" Scott's voice chimed in from the computer screen.

"She said . . ." Stiles trailed off, looking at the screen, "Cam, come over here."

"Stiles, if this is another picture of Lydia, I'm going to punch you . . ."

On the computer screen, Scott's face was visible by the light of his computer. The rest of his room was dark as the only light came from the hallway, which shone through the partially opened door. A dark figure stood in the corner of his room.

"Is . . . is that Derek?" I whispered to Stiles. He nodded and began to type.

'_It looks like' _

"Come on!" Stiles pounded his hand against the computer screen.

"Wow Stiles, of all times for your internet to slow down."

"Aha!" he typed the rest of the message.

'_Someone is behind you.' _

The Internet connection came back on and suddenly, Scott disappeared. A few moments later, he came back shaken up.

"That was Derek. I-I can't play on Saturday. What am I going to tell Coach?"

* * *

"You're going to the game, right?" I asked Allison. We were standing by our lockers after school.

"Yeah, it should be fun. Did I hear that Scott was playing?"

"Which is a total surprise by the way. The summer practice really shaped him up . . . or maybe it's all the 'roids he's been shooting up," I joked.

Allison didn't catch on. She looked at me with wide yes, "He's not—he's not really doing that, is he?"

"I'm kidding! You should've seen your face!" I laughed, "He would never. And you shouldn't believe it no matter how much Jackson tries to convince you."

"Camille! Allison!" Lydia shouted over the crowd. Behind her, she dragged Logan, a lacrosse player. He smiled at the two of us. "I want you to meet Logan. He's on the team, been on first string since his freshmen year. _Almost _as good as Jackson!"

"Wow, thanks Lydia—"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "I said_ almost_."

Allison smiled politely at Logan while Lydia tried to set the two of them up.

_I'm on to you, Lydia Martin! _

"Logan, buddy!" I patted him on the shoulder, "Still pickin' your nose? I mean, yeah sure, it was the fifth grade, but old habits die hard, ya know?"

Allison hid her laugh in a cough while Logan flushed. Lydia glared at me before she grabbed Logan and left.

"Hey," Scott said when he walked up to us. The two of them looked at me before I realized what their looks meant.

"Chill out, guys. You could've just said so!"

_Sheesh, I know when I'm not wanted!_

* * *

"My God," Stiles mumbled when he saw Lydia at the hospital, "Lydia! You probably don't remember me . . . I sit behind you in Biology. Uh, anyways, I always thought we had this connection—unspoken, of course. Maybe it would kind of cool to get to know each other a little better."

"Hold on, give me a second," Lydia removed the headpiece from her ear.

"I didn't hear anything you said. Is it worth repeating?"

"Uh . . . no."

"Oh my God, Camille, the funniest thing just happened . . . "

'_Of course, even when she's not here she's ruining my life' _Stiles thought.

* * *

_**BEEEEEEEEEEP **_

"Camille! That boy is here! Why is he honking? I'm trying to watch the game here!"

_**BEEEEEEEEEP **_

"CAMILLE! TELL THAT BOY TO STOP IT BEFORE I GO OUT THERE WITH MY GUN!"

Stiles honked again, and he held onto the horn when I pounded on his window. He jumped and nearly slid down the seat.

"What do you think you're doing, scaring me like that?!"

"Stiles, you do know that it's late and my dad threatened to bring out his gun . . . again." He looked over at the living room window where my dad poked his head through the curtain.

"_Heeeey_ Mr. Theodore!" My dad glared at him before leaving the window.

"Get in, we're going on a mission. We have to pick up Scott, so let's go!"

On the way to Scott's house, Stiles turned to me.

"By the way, your dad totally loves me, I don't know why he acts like he doesn't."

"You do realize that he only tolerates you cause of your dad."

"Wa-wait, does he really?" At my silence, he pouted, "Ten years later and I thought we had a pretty good relationship."

"You wish, Stiles."

* * *

Stiles parked on the outskirts of the woods and the three of us, walked down to the path that lead to the Hale's house.

"You guys never told me why we were here," I said surveying the woods.

"Stiles! You didn't tell her?"

"Did you know that her dad doesn't like me?"

Scott groaned quietly before shaking his head, "Stiles and I went to the morgue this afternoon and guess what we found out about the dead girl's body? There were bite marks on her body."

" . . . Your point?"

"Bite marks, Cam. Like werewolf bite marks?" Stiles explained to me like I was a five year old.

"We think Derek did it," Scott said and looked over at the house. Derek exited the house and drove off in his car.

_Damn, can't deny that he's hot. And the car makes him 10000x hotter. _

The boys pulled shovels out of the back and walked over to an area of dirt by the house.

"Wait, something's different," Scott said looking around.

"Different how?" Stiles said, shining the flashlight at the burnt down house.

"I don't know, but let's get this over with."

After half an hour of digging, I looked up at the guys, "Why am I here? You guys didn't even give me a shovel to help."

"We might've forgot that we only had two shovels," Stiles mumbled, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"This is taking way too long," Scott said, worried.

"Just keep going," Stiles commanded.

"What if he comes back?"

"Then we get the hell out of here!"

"What if he catches us?"

_Sheesh, Scott. When did you became so paranoid?_

"I have a plan for that."

"Which is?" I questioned, skeptical of what kind of _amazing_ plan Stiles could think up.

"Well, I run one way and Scott the other. _Annnd_ Cam here can be a team player and sacrifice herself after the whole fish tacos incident."

"Oh thanks Stiles, I knew you loved me."

They finally hit something with their shovels and Stiles began untying the rope.

"Hurry!" Scott rushed him.

"I'm trying! Did he have to tie the thing in like nine hundred knots?" He huffed.

We all peered closer and once Stiles finished, he pulled the thick cloth, revealing a dead black wolf. The three of us screamed, Stiles and Scott holding onto each other.

"What the hell is that?!" Stiles yelled.

"It's a wolf, you idiot!"

"Yeah, thanks Cam, I can see that!" He turned to Scott, "I thought you said you smelled blood—like I don't know—human blood!"

"I told you something felt different!" Scott defended himself.

"This doesn't make sense . . ." Stiles trailed off, "Help me cover this up."

The two of them attempted to push the dirt back into the hole, covering the wolf with dirt. I followed the rope, which lead to a purple flower. It stood out in contrast with the dirt around it. I recognized it from movies and the research Stiles printed out.

_I would like to personally thank the great werewolf films for teaching me things I didn't think I would need to know. _

"Stiles, is that what I think it is?" He looked up from the dirt and followed my gaze to the flower.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked us.

"Do you see that flower?"

"Yeah, what about it?" he asked impatiently.

"I think it's wolf's bane," he told Scott.

"What's that?"

_For being the werewolf in the group, he doesn't know much . . . _

"You haven't seen the Wolf Man? Lon Chaney Jr.? Claude Rains?" Scott shook his head.

"Buddy, we need to have a movie night soon," I said.

"You are so unprepared for this," Stiles mumbled before walking over to the flower.

He picked the flower up and followed the rope that was attached to it. We watched as he unraveled the dirt, lifting the rope into his hands. It wrapped around the circle the boys dug up.

"Guys," Scott called out to us. He was looking down at the hole. We followed his gaze and in the place of the wolf was the other half of the body.

_Hooooooly shit. A murderer took me home on Friday._

* * *

It was early morning and we were still at the Hale's house. We had company however; Stiles called his dad and the house was surrounded by multiple patrol cars.

I stood with Scott as we watched the policemen escort Derek out of the house with handcuffs. He glared at us before he sat down in the back of the car. Stiles walked over to us, grabbed my hand and lead me to the car.

"What are you doing, Stiles?" I attempted to pull my hand out of his grasp.

"Look, he won't hit me if you're there. You're a girl!"

"You do realize that he killed a girl, don't you?"

"Riiiiight, okay, he seems to hate Scott and I need some support," he opened the driver's side before pushing me in and closing the door. I looked at Derek through the holes of the divider. He ignored me. Stiles opened the passenger side and sat down.

"Just so you know, I'm not afraid of you," he told Derek, who glared at him.

"O-okay, maybe I am. Doesn't matter. I just want to know something. The girl you killed, she's a werewolf."

"But a different kind, right?" I added.

"Is that why you killed her?" Stiles asked him.

Derek looked at the two of us, "Why are you so worried about me when you should be worried about your friend over there? What do you think will happen if he changes out there on the lacrosse field? Just keep cheering him on, huh?"

Stiles backed away from the divisor, but it didn't matter. Derek leaned closer, "I might not be able to stop him, but you can. And _trust me_, you'll want to."

Suddenly, the Sheriff opened the passenger side door and pulled Stiles out. He tugged him several feet in front of the car and sighed heavily, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Look, you need to stop your friend from playing the game."

I looked at Derek who kept his eye on his lap, "Why is it so important to you?"

"Because I'm not the bad guy."

"So who is?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's the Alpha. I don't know who he is, but he's the one that turned Scott. And he's the one that killed the girl."

"So you just buried a random girl in your yard?"

"She's my sister. Or she was."

The door opened and the Sheriff peered down at me, "Camille. Did my son drag you into this or did you willingly do so?"

"Uhh, it was all Stiles' fault." I flashed him one of my innocent smiles. He sighed before beckoning his head outside, "Come on; go on home."

I looked at Derek one last time before stepping out of the care. I saluted the Sheriff and walked over to Stiles and Scott.

We were driving down the road back to town and Scott was looking up information on his phone.

"I can't find anything about using wolf's bane for burial—"

"Just keep looking . . . maybe it's a ritual or something, you know? Like they bury you as a wolf when you die. Or it's a special skill that you have to learn."

"Yeah, I'll put it on my to do list," Scott said halfheartedly. "Underneath: figure out how to play the game tonight."

"Maybe it's a girl werewolf thing," I joked from the back.

"Okay! Stop it!" Scott nearly growled. Stiles and I made eye contact from the rearview mirror..

"Stop what?" Stiles asked hesitatingly.

"Stop saying werewolf! Stop enjoying this so much!"

"Are you okay, Scotty?" I asked and placed my hand on his shoulder.

"No, I'm not even close to being okay!" His face distorted into pain and he began to breathe heavily.

"You know, you're going to have to accept it," Stiles said, oblivious to what was going on.

"I can't—"

"Well you kind of have to—"

"No! I can't breathe!" He groaned in pain and slammed his palm up against the roof of the jeep.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Stiles swerved and tried to steady the car on the road.

"Stop the car!" Scott demanded in pain.

"Why? What's happening?" Stiles panicked.

Scott unzipped Stiles' backpack and took out the wolf's bane rope.

"You kept it?!" Scott and I yelled at Stiles.

"What was I supposed to do with it?"

"STOP THE CAR!" Scott growled at Stiles. He drove off road and once the car stopped, he grabbed the backpack and launched it off into the woods.

"Scott," I said, hesitatingly and placed my hand on his shoulder. He turned to me with glowing yellow eyes and fangs. He gripped my wrist and growled at me.

"Scott, let go!" Of course I had hoped that he would let go, but he only gripped it tighter. He only released me once I screamed when I felt the crack from my wrist. Before I realized it, he ran off into the woods.

Stiles returned, breathing heavily. "Okay, we're good . . ." He looked at the swinging passenger side door, "Scott?"

He walked back to the car and took notice of my bruised and slightly deformed wrist, "Oh my God, Chameleon! Are you okay? Did Scott do this?"

"Okay. We have to find Scott and take you to the hospital."

"No fucking shit, Stiles." I growled and cradled my hand to my chest.

* * *

"Stiles, you're not supposed to call the dispatch line when I'm on duty," the female voice rang out from Stiles' phone.

"I just need to know if you received any . . . odd calls."

"Odd how?"

"Uh—odd like person? Dog-like individual roaming the streets of Beacon Hills?"

"I'm hanging up on you now. Goodbye."

"No, wait!" He pleaded, but the call ended. He huffed and threw the phone down.

"That went well," I commented.

"Don't—" he released a deep sigh, "Don't start with me right now."

We arrived at the hospital just in time to see Melissa leaving the building in her street clothes and purse.

"Hey kids, what are you guys doing here?" she smiled at us.

Stiles and I looked at each other awkwardly. Of course we didn't think of a cover up. Stiles coughed and looked at me expectantly.

_Knew I can always count on you, Stiles . . . _

"Stiles shoved me and I landed awkwardly on my wrist. No biggie," I tried to smile convincingly. Melissa gasped and inspected my arm.

"Here sweetie, come with me and I'll fix you up."

"But aren't you on your way to the game? I can wait for another nurse—"

"You are coming with me, young lady. Stiles, you stay here," she ordered before leading me to a room.

Half an hour later, she read over my file, "Okay, good news is that it's just a wrist fracture. Bad news is that you'll have to wear a cast for a few weeks."

I groaned. The last time I had to wear a cast was when I was ten and Stiles pushed me off a tree. I had to wear a leg cast for the longest six weeks of my life.

'_Sorry, had to leave for the_ game.' Stiles texted me.

"Hey Melissa? Can I have a ride for the game? My good ol' buddy Stiles ditched me to sit on the bench."

"Camille!" Melissa scolded. "One day Stiles will have the opportunity to play!"

"Yeah, in like a million years." We shared a laugh before she brought out the materials for my cast.

* * *

The game was just about to start when we arrived. The bleachers were crowded with family and friends from both teams.

"Camille!" Lydia called and waved me over to where they were sitting. I shook my head, but Melissa placed her hand on my arm.

"Go on, sweetie. I'm a big girl," she teased before walking away.

I eyed the posters by Lydia's feet when I reached the two of them, "Don't worry, you don't have to help me hold up the posters," she smiled, "Allison is helping me."

"Camille, I want you to meet my dad Dad, this is Camille."

_Whoa. This is one dad I'd like to—_

I smiled and stuck out my right hand for a handshake before I realized that it was my injured hand.

"Camille!" the two girls exclaimed, eyeing the cast.

"Are you okay," Allison asked, "What happened?"

"Oh, you know how clumsy Stiles is," I said. I sat down on Mr. Argent's left so he was sandwiched between Allison and I.

"So . . . " I trailed off looking at him, "Do you like lacrosse?"

"No," he answered, "More of a football guy."

"Cool. I'm only here for the big hits and hot guys. Plus, to support Stiles and Scott."

_Hey, at least I'm honest. _

"You know Scott?"

I nodded, "Yup, one of my good friends." He nodded his head, but didn't say anything else.

"SCOTT'S OPEN, YOU DIPSHITS!" I screamed down to the field. Mr. Argent looked up at me in shock. I smiled apologetically, "Sorry, forgot to warn ya. I have a big mouth during games."

The ball landed in an open area and both Scott and Jackson raced for it. Jackson rammed into Scott, knocking him down, and grabbed the ball. He launched the ball into the net and scored. The crowd erupted into cheers.

"HEY JACKSON, YOU DO REALIZE THAT YOU JUST HIT YOUR OWN TEAMMATE, RIGHT?!" I huffed when he smirked at me.

"Allison, help me?" Lydia and Allison held up a "We Luv Jackson" poster. I let out a groan when Scott noticed.

_Poor Scott! _

There was thirteen minutes left in the game and we were losing 5-3. Scott was hunched over, breathing heavily.

"Which number is Scott again?" Mr. Argent asked us.

"Number 11," I replied.

"Also known as the only player who hasn't caught a single ball the _entire_ game."

"Well maybe if someone wasn't hogging the ball the whole time!" She ignored me.

"I hope he's okay," Allison mumbled mostly to herself.

"I hope, we're okay," Lydia corrected her, "Help me?" She held up another sign for Jackson. Allison scratched her forehead before standing up and helping her.

The ball was launched into the air and Scott jumped over a player's shoulder, catching it. He weaved through the opposing players and scored a goal.

"YES, WOOOO, GO SCOTTY!" I yelled. "Wait, oh shiiiiiit," I trailed off ignoring the curious look Mr. Argent sent me.

_Scott wolfed out! No wonder he's so good right now! _

"PASS TO MCCALL! PASS TO MCCALL!" Finstock yelled out to his players.

An opposing player had the ball and was looking for open teammates. Suddenly, he threw the ball right into Scott's possession.

"Did he just pass it to Scott?" Mr. Argent asked, confused.

"Huh . . . I think so. Have you seen that face of his?" I joked.

Scott scored another goal, launching the ball right through the net of the goalie's stick. 18 seconds left and Scott was the only one against three other players. They all charged at him before he threw the ball to the net and scored!

"SUCK ON THAT, MFH! YOU GUYS SUCK!"

Allison and Lydia joined the rest of the crowd and ran out to the field while I stayed behind, walking to Stiles.

"How 'bout that!" Stiles exclaimed. He looked at his dad several feet behind us, talking on the phone, "Dad? What's wrong?"

The Sheriff held up his hand, listening intently to his phone. He hung up the phone and rubbed his forehead, "The medical examiner took a look at the body. They determined that it was animal related incident, not a murder. Derek Hale has been released. And the girl was identified as Laura Hale."

"The good news just keep on rollin', doesn't it?" I smiled at Stiles and threw my arm around his shoulders.

"Camille, what happened to your arm?"

I looked at Stiles and back to his dad, "Oh, you know, your son hates me. Nothing new."

Stiles gasped at me before denying everything and running off to the locker room to find Scott.

* * *

**A/N**: How was it? Terrible? Good? Decent? Let me know!

WHAT DID YOU GUYS THINK OF THE NEW EPISODE? I NEARLY DIED. I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT HAPPENED. WATCHED IT TWICE.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: Hello all! It's been forever since I've updated. Sorry! I've been really busy with school. Here's chapter 5, which is season 1, episode 3.

* * *

Lydia offered to drive me home after the game and I gladly accepted it. I didn't want to explain to Scott about my arm. Unfortunately for me, Melissa had called my parents, letting them know about my injury. When I got back, my parents were waiting for me.

"Sweetie!" My mom rushed over to inspect my arm, "What happened? Melissa called a few hours ago and said you hurt your arm. She didn't say how though."

"Mom! Don't worry; I'm fine. Some jerk pushed me after school and I fell awkwardly. No biggie," I smiled at her. I couldn't tell her the same lie I told Melissa. If my parents thought that it was Stiles, they would dislike him. Okay, only my dad would dislike him . . . even more. My mom loves Stiles.

_I'm pretty sure Stiles can kill a puppy and she would still adore him. _

"Do you need me to hurt him?" My dad asked. He took his eyes off the TV and looked at me.

"Dad, remember that one time you saw mom's ex-boyfriend?"

He grunted, "Yeah, what about it?"

"If I recall, you threw out your back. So no, I'm fine."

"Hey! You do know the best man won." He said smugly.

"And how so?" Mom questioned, raising her brow.

"Cause, if I didn't, Camille here wouldn't be alive. So, you're welcome, sweetheart." He said to me.

I rolled my eyes and said goodnight before I walked up to my room.

* * *

It was hard to shower with the cast, but I somehow managed. I wore a pair of jeans and a tank top, before I slipped on some flats. I threw on a cardigan and left my hair down. My mom dropped me off at school with ten minutes to spare. I looked around for Scott or Stiles, but couldn't find them.

As I made my way to the school entrance, somebody on a bike collided with me. My books fell to the floor and papers flew out of my binder. I waited for the impact of the floor, but it never came. I looked up and saw the blue eyes of Isaac Lahey. We stared at each other before realizing our position and we quickly separated.

The two of us bent down to gather my items and I looked at him with a teasing smile, "Deja vu?"

He blushed and handed me my books, "S-sorry about that I didn't see—"

"Camille!" Lydia walked up to us, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine Lyds."

She looked up and down at Isaac and narrowed her eyes at him, "Are you _blind? _Did you not see her?"

He looked like a deer in headlights, "I—I'm sorry, I couldn't see over—"

"Lydia, it's okay!" I tried to stop her from telling Isaac off. She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Let's get to class." She turned and started to walk up the steps to the school.

"I'm sorry about her, it's fine, really. I'm not hurt. See?" I gestured to my body before his eyes focused on the cast on my arm, "Well you obviously didn't do this to me."

He nodded his head like a child being scolded and bent down to pick up his bike.

"Camille!" Lydia called out to me from the school doors.

I looked at Lydia and turned back to Isaac who was now holding onto his bike and looking at the ground. He looked up at me when I touched his elbow.

"It's fine, really," I gave him a reassuring smile, "I'll see you around?"

I gave him one last smile before walking over to Lydia who had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot.

_Oh Lydia, impatient as ever._

* * *

We entered the school and Lydia left my side once she spotted Jackson talking to a few lacrosse players. I walked towards my locker before I heard Scott shout my name. He ran up to me and grasped me by my shoulders. His eyes were wide and frantic, "Cam! Have you seen Allison?!"

I looked over his shoulder at Stiles who only shook his head, "No, I just go there. Scott, are you okay?"

"No!" He shouted. I gave him a strange look.

"I think I killed Allison," He whispered before taking off down the hallway.

_That boy ain't right. _

" . . . What just happened?" I asked Stiles.

"He had a dream about killing Allison on a school bus. There was a real attack on one of the school busses out in the back lot. Blood everywhere—so naturally Scott freaked."

"Why doesn't he just text her?"

"He tried. She's not answering."

A loud bang sounded through the nearly empty hallway. Scott had punched a locker that was now dented in. I looked at the locker before laughing.

"What's so funny?" Stiles asked.

"I think that's Jackson's locker!" We looked at the locker and laughed hysterically.

_The chances of that being Jackson's . . . you go Scotty! _

Stiles slung his arm over my shoulder and walked to class together.

* * *

_Chemistry! Good ol' fun! _

The class was quiet as we waited for Mr. Harris to start the class. He was writing our assignment on the board.

"What happened to your arm," Scott asked when he took notice of my cast. I froze and avoided making eye contact with him. I hated lying to him.

"Some kid ran into me yesterday and I feel awkwardly." Luckily he was too preoccupied with his werewolf problem that he didn't catch my lie.

"Maybe it was my blood," Scott suggested to Stiles and I.

"Or animal blood—maybe you caught a rabbit or something . . ." Stiles offered.

"What did I do with it?"

"You ate it . . ." Stiles looked at Scott like he was stupid.

"Raw?!"

"No, Scott, You marinated it in BBQ sauce and cooked it in a little werewolf oven."

"Wow, Scott. How could you? It was a poor, defenseless rabbit! I knew you didn't like Mr. Bunny when we were kids, but you didn't have to kill him either!"

"I didn't kill Mr. Bunny!" Scott defended himself.

"How do I know that? You never liked him and always gave him mean looks when you would come over!"

"Only because it always bit me! And you do know that it was a girl, right?"

"Mr. Bunny loved you and you know it!" I pointed my finger at him and pretended to sniffle. I wiped the invisible tears from my eyes.

"Ms. Theodore! If you're done talking to your hooligan friends, I think the three of you would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

The three of us looked at each other before shaking our heads. "No, I think we're good here—" Stiles started, but stopped at the pointed stare from Mr. Harris.

"Yeah, we can move." Stiles hurried to grab his backpack off the floor and hastily stood up.

Stiles moved to the very back, while Scott sat up front with a girl named Lauren. I looked around the room before spotting an empty seat next to Isaac at the back corner of the room.

_Whoa, awkward . . . didn't even know we were in the same class. _

"Let me know if the separation is too difficult," Mr. Harris said before he continued to write on the board.

I sat on the cold stool and turned to Isaac. He glanced up from doodling on his notebook before blushing and giving me a small smile.

"Hi," I returned the smile.

"Hey."

"Hi." I nearly slapped myself on the forehead. He flashed me another small smile.

_That was smooth, Camille._

"Hey! I think they found something!" Lauren moved from her seat next to Scott and went over to the window. We all followed suit and watched as the police wheeled a man on a stretcher to the ambulance.

"That's not a rabbit," Scott muttered to us.

Suddenly, the man sat up, screaming. Everyone jumped up and several girls screamed. I grabbed the hand next to me, thinking that it was Stiles. Stiles didn't react, as he was used to me holding onto his hand when I was scared.

"This is good! He got up, so he's alive! He got up and dead guys can't do that!" Stiles said to Scott.

"Uhm, Camille?" a soft voice said next to me. I turned and faced Isaac. He glanced down at our intertwined hands. I quickly dropped his hand and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my cardigan.

"Sorry, I-I thought it was Stiles' hand," I stuttered. His face reddened and he nodded his head before he walked back to his seat.

My hand felt cold as I walked back to our table.

* * *

It was lunchtime and I sat with Stiles and Scott in the cafeteria. It was always the three of us sitting at lunch. It's been like that our whole friendship and we were okay with that. Today was the day I realized how much I appreciated it.

"Dreams aren't memories!" Stiles insisted.

"Then it wasn't a dream! Something happened last night and I don't know what . . ."

"And what makes you so sure that Derek knows all the answers?"

"_Weeeell_," I dragged out, "He didn't change on the night of the full moon, which means he had total control. While our good ol' buddy here, was running around in the middle of the night, attacking some poor guy—"

"Thanks, Cam. Really, are you taking classes on sympathy 101 because you're not helping anyone!"

"That's too bad you said that Stiles, I guess I'll eat the rest of my chips here since you're being so rude to me!" I munched on the chips in front of him.

"Damn it, I'm sorry Cam! Forgive me ol' wonderful one! I beg of you!" He clasped his hands together and scrunched up his face.

I threw the bag at his face and warned him, "You remember this, Stillinksi."

"Guys! Focus here! I can't go out with Allison, I have to cancel . . . "

"You're not cancelling on her! You can't cancel your entire life! We'll figure something out."

"Yeah, what Stiles said! And who knows! Allison could be the _only _girl in the entire world who'll ever like you! Your mom doesn't count! We'll figure this out." Scott threw his dirty napkin at me.

"Figure what out?" Lydia said, setting her lunch tray on the table and sitting down beside me.

"Figure—figure out our homework!" Stiles lied.

"Yeah . . ."

_Gee Scott, you're so convincing. _

Allison joined us at our table, along with Jackson and his group of lacrosse buddies.

Danny, the goalie on the team, and Stiles awkwardly made eye contact. Okay, it was more like _Stiles _was the one making awkward eye contact with Danny while he looked at Stiles weirdly.

"Move," Jackson ordered one of the guys from the team.

"Why do I have to move? Why don't you ever ask Danny?" the boy protested.

"Because _I _don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot," he smirked at the boy and bit into his apple. The boy glared at Jackson before walking off.

"So," Danny started, "I heard that some type of animal must've attacked him. Probably a cougar?"

"I say it's a mountain lion," Jackson said.

_It's the same thing, smartass. _

"A cougar _is _a mountain lion," Lydia said absentmindedly. She looked up realizing what she said and said, "Isn't it?"

I kicked Lydia under the table, but she ignored me. She was used to me bugging her about dumbing herself down for Jackson.

"Who cares?" Jackson said, "He's probably some homeless tweaker who was going to die anyway."

"Actually I just found out who it is. Check it out." Stiles played the video on his phone.

"I-I know this guy!" Scott told us.

"You do?" Allison asked. Stiles and I looked at each other.

"Yeah, he was the bus driver back when I was living with my dad."

"Can we talk about something slightly more _fun_, please? Like, where we're gong tomorrow night. You guys are hanging out tomorrow, right?"

Allison looked at Lydia, "Well, we were wondering what we're gonna do . . . " She trailed off glancing at Scott.

Scott looked at Stiles who stared back at him with wide eyes. I quickly shook my head back and forth.

"I am not sitting at home again watching lacrosse videos," Lydia complained, "So if the four of us are hanging out, we better do something fun. Camille, do you want to tag along? You can bring . . . whoever that is."

Stiles was surprised about Lydia referring to him that he didn't even care that she called him "_that_"_. _

"Sometimes I think I should do crystal meth, but I think . . . mhhhm, better not." I shrugged at them when they turned and looked at me.

"H-Hanging out? Like the four of us?" Scott looked at Allison, who shrugged sheepishly at him. "Do you want to hang out—like us and . . . them?"

"Yeah, I guess. Sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork." Jackson grabbed the fork off his tray and held it in front of him. Lydia grabbed it and placed it on the table.

"Aw, come on Jackson. Don't tease us with things like that!" He glared at me.

Lydia gasped and turned to him, "How about bowling! You love to bowl!"

"Yeah, with _actual _competition," he scoffed.

"How do you know we're not actual competition?" Allison teased. "You can bowl, right?" she asked Scott.

"Sort of . . ."

"Is it 'sort of' or 'yes'?" Jackson leaned against the table, challenging Scott.

"Yes," Scott said, leaning towards Jackson, "In fact, I'm a great bowler."

I snorted and water gushed out of my nose.

"Aw, Cam! Not over my shoes!" Stiles whined.

* * *

"You're a terrible bowler!" Stiles said to Scott as we walked down the stairs.

"I know! I'm such an idiot!"

"Remember my tenth birthday?" I asked the two of them.

"Don't remind me," Scott groaned.

"I do not recall such an event," Stiles said jokingly, "Please, Cam, remind me."

"Scotty here, aged ten, had seven gutters in a row. And he threw the bowling ball at my cake. That was the end of Scott's bowling career—a tragic day, really."

"You don't hang out with hot girls. It's like death. Once it's hanging out, you might as well be her gay best friend. You and Danny can start hanging out," Stiles said.

"You . . . are an idiot, Stiles," I said looking at him.

"How did this happen? I either killed a guy or I didn't," Scott shook his head.

"I don't think Danny likes me very much," Stiles commented, looking thoughtfully at the ground.

"I asked Allison on a date and now we're _hanging out_," Scott continued.

"Am I unattractive to gay guys?" Stiles asked us seriously.

"I made first line and the team captain wants to destroy me. And now? Now I'm going to be late for work." Scott glanced at his phone and walked away from us.

"Wait, Scott!" Stiles called. He turned and looked at me, "Am I attractive to gay guys?"

I looked at him with wide eyes, "U-uh I think my mom's calling me."

I held my phone to my ear and walked away, "Yeah, I'll take that ride, mom!"

"YOUR PHONE DIDN'T EVEN RING!" Stiles shouted, chasing after me.

* * *

'_R U busy?'_

I read the message from Scott and groaned. That boy needs to stop texting like that.

'_No, what's up?'_

'_Come with me to Derek's?'_

Scott arrived at my house shortly and the two of us walked to the woods. It wasn't a far walk and he explained his plan.

"Do you think Derek knows the answer?"

"I'm sure he knows something, Scotty. Don't worry, I don't think you killed the guy," I patted his back with my good arm.

We stood in front of the Hale house before I turned and looked at him, "Wait, how do you even know if he's here?"

"I can smell him."

" . . . Does he smell good? I feel like he would smell good." He gave me a strange look before walking closer to the door.

"I know you can hear me. I need your help," Scott said.

The door slowly opened to reveal Derek wearing all black and his signature leather jacket. He gave us a look, waiting for us to explain why we're here.

"I-I know I was a part of getting you arrested and that we basically announced you're here to the hunters. And I don't know what happened to your sister, but I think I did something last night." Derek was silent so he continued; "I had a dream last night about someone—someone else got here. And it turns out that that part of the dream came true."

"You think you attacked the driver," Derek stated.

"Did you see what I did last night?"

"No."

"Can you at least tell me the truth? Am I going to hurt someone?"

Scott was oblivious to Derek's glance at my cast, "Yes."

"Yes"

_Already did Scott . . ._

"Can I kill someone?"

"Yes."

"Am I _going _to kill someone?"

"Probably."

I snorted. _At least he's honest. _

The new information seemed to weigh Scott down. He leaned against a wooden post that supported the house.

"Look," Derek started, "I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control a shift, even on a full moon. But it won't come for free."

"What do you want?"

"You'll find out. But for now, I'm going to give you what you want: go back to the bus. Go inside. See it. Feel it. Let your senses—your sight, smell, touch. Let them remember for you."

"That's it? Just go back?"

"Do you want to know what happened?"

"I just want to know if I was the one who had hurt him."

"No you don't," Derek scoffed, "You want to know if you'll hurt _her_."

* * *

Stiles pulled up the back of the school. It was late and the only way Scott would have access to the bus without the police surrounding it. The three of us exited the car and walked towards the gate.

"No, just me! Someone needs to keep watch." Scott said.

"Why am I always the one to keep watch?" Stiles asked.

"Because I'm the one that actually needs to be in the bus!"

"Okay, why is it starting to feel like I'm Robin and you're Batman? I don't want to be Robin all the time!"

"Can I be Wonder Woman?" I piped up from where I stood.

"Nobody is Batman, Robin, or Wonder Woman any of the time!"

"Not even some of the time?" Stiles gasped.

"Just stay here!" Scott ordered.

"OH MY GOD!" Stiles groaned and walked back to the jeep. I followed suit as Scott climbed over the fence.

"I could've done that," Stiles huffed as we watched Scott land on the other side of the fence.

"There, there, Robin," I patted his shoulder.

"_Shut up_!"

We were silent for a few minutes before I spoke up, "Hey, do you think I'll be a good Wonder Woman?"

"Hm?" Stiles said absentmindedly, staring at the police taped bus.

"Do you think I'll make a good Wonder Woman," I repeated.

"Well," he started, "Do you think I'll be a good Batman?"

"Yeah," I said, "I think you're pretty snazzy."

"Then yes, I think you'll make a pretty badass Wonder Woman."

We looked at each other before smiling and bumped fists.

"Did you see that?" Stiles asked after a few moments.

"See what?" I asked and looked around for someone or _something_.

"That!" Stiles said and pointed to the security guard who was approaching the bus.

"What do we do?" He asked frantically.

"I don't know! You would think that with his new werewolf senses he would be able to hear . . . " I trailed off and pressed my hand against the horn. I didn't stop until Scott ran out and did some werewolf ninja moves and jumped over the fence. He ran to the car out of breath.

"GO! GO!" Scott shouted at Stiles. He backed out and sped away.

"Did it work?! Did you remember?" Stiles questioned.

"Yeah, I was there last night. There was blood, but none of it was mine."

"So you did attack him?"

"No, I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek's."

_That doesn't make sense . . . _

"What about the driver?" Stiles asked.

"I was trying to protect him."

"It can't be Derek! Why would he give you information to help you remember that he attacked the driver?" I asked.

"Why do you trust Derek so much?" Scott asked and the two looked at me.

"It just doesn't add up! It doesn't make sense for Derek to give information that'll make us think that he did it. We've already tried arresting him and sure, the whole wolf hair thing was the evidence that released him, but there's no reason why he would want us to know he did it."

"Whatever, maybe it's a pack thing." Stiles offered.

"What do you mean?"

"Like an initiation. You kill together."

"Yeah, because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience," I scoffed.

"But it means that you didn't do it! Which means you're not a killer . . . which also means that –"

Scott cut Stiles off, "Which means I can go out with Allison!"

_Oh boy. That kid is smitten. _

"Actually, I was going to say that you won't kill the two of us," Stiles said.

"O-Oh yeah . . . that too," Scott tried.

"You're a fomie, Scott!"

"A _fomie_, Cam? What the hell is that?" Scott raised his brow at me.

"You know, a fake homie? You care about your date and Allison more than Stiles and I!" I pointed my finger at him.

"Yeah, I second that!" Stiles agreed and shook his head.

"Shut up! You know that's not true!" He defended himself.

_Ah, young love._

* * *

At school earlier that day, I had let Allison borrow my Chemistry textbook because she left hers at home. I had forgotten about it until I started my project and realized that Allison still had it.

'_Hey, think I can come over to pick up my textbook?' _

Allison replied, '_Sure, I'm just getting ready for the group date. Lydia's here too. Come before 8?' _

With my trusty cell phone GPS in hand and the keys to my mother's car, I pulled up to Allison's house at 7:30. I rang the doorbell and waited patiently.

A petite woman with short red hair and steel blue eyes opened the door. She pursed her lips and looked up and down at me. She raised her brow before she greeted me.

"Hello, may I help you?" Her voice matched her appearance.

_Scary. _

"Hi, I'm a friend of Allison's; She has one of my textbooks."

The door opened wider and Mr. Argent greeted me with a smile, "Hello Camille. Allison's room is upstairs and down the hall."

The two stepped back and I walked in. I tucked my hair behind my ear before I smiled at them, "Thank you. Nice meeting you Mrs. Argent."

I walked up the stairs and approached the slightly ajar door where Lydia's voice sounded.

" . . . God Allison, your clothing taste dwindles every second I'm looking at your wardrobe. Here, this will work!"

I knocked on the door and pushed it open. Lydia stood behind Allison who held a black shimmery shirt in front of the mirror.

"Hey Camille! Sorry about taking your textbook. I totally forgot I had it." Allison dropped the shirt on her bed and took out the textbook from her book bag.

"Don't worry about it," I reassured her, "And that shirt is perfect for tonight."

She blushed before nodding her head. Lydia beamed at me, "Are you sure you don't want to hang out with us tonight?"

"Nah, I have to get started on the Chemistry project."

"Hm, that's too bad. I finished mine the day Harris assigned it."

"That was yesterday, Lyds." I looked at her.

"I know," she said and fell onto Allison's bed.

_Humble brag? If only you didn't act like an idiot in front of Jackson. _

Allison's dad walks into the room and looks at us while putting on his jacket.

"Dad . . . hello," Allison said, looking at him with confusion.

"Right, sorry—I completely forgot to knock," He apologized.

"Hey, Mr. Argent," Lydia said and gave him a flirty smile.

"Dad, did you need something?"

"I wanted to tell you that you're staying in tonight."

"What?" Allison asked, "But I'm going out with my friends tonight."

"No, not when some animal is out there attacking people."

"Dad," Allison tried.

"Hey, hey! There's a 9:30 curfew, it's out of my hands. No more arguing." He said before bidding us goodbye and leaving the room.

Allison released a deep sigh. Lydia smirked at her. "Someone is daddy's little girl."

"Sometimes. But not tonight." She placed a beanie on her head before approaching the window. She opened it and stepped out onto the roof. Lydia and I leaned out the window.

"What are you doing?" Lydia asked in a high-pitched tone.

She ignored her and did a flip off the roof and landed on her feet.

_Okay, everybody has to stop with the gymnastic moves. _

"Eight years of gymnastics. Are you coming?" Allison whispers to us.

"I-I'll take the stairs," Lydia stuttered.

"Uh, yeah—I'll go with her." I nodded my head.

* * *

We parted ways and I was driving back on the main road back home. Suddenly, the car slowly came to stop.

"Damn it!" I slapped the steering wheel. The battery was dead.

I picked up my phone to call Stiles, but I was in a dead zone.

"Really? Is this really happening?" I leaned my forehead against the wheel.

I opened my eyes when I heard a car pull up. I looked over and saw a black Camaro—Derek's Camaro, to be more accurate. He rolled down the passenger window and asked, "Need a ride?"

I bit my lip, staring out at the windshield. As much as I trusted him, Scott and Stiles didn't.

_But I am in trouble . . .fuck it. _

I grabbed my textbook and stuffed it into my bag. I locked the doors and walked up to his car. Once I settled in, he sped off.

"Did Scott go back to the bus?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, he did. He said he saw another wolf there attacking the bus driver. He also said he was there trying to protect him."

Derek tensed, "What wolf?"

"Funny thing actually . . . he thinks it was you, even though I told him it wasn't."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened and he clenched his jaw. He turned up the radio, so I assumed the conversation was over. We pulled up to a gas station and he stepped out of the car. My stomach started to grumble so I opened the door and stepped out.

"I'm going to get some snacks. Do you want anything?" I offered.

He asked for water and I nodded before walking inside the food mart. I looked at the chips selection, contemplating on Cheetos or Lays. After a few moments, I grabbed both of them. I grabbed a bottle of water and lined up to pay.

Outside, two Tahoes surrounded the car. I furrowed my brows and wondered why the red Tahoe was so familiar.

"Miss? That'll be $5.50," the cashier said.

"Oh, right," I gave him the money and grabbed the bag.

I walked out just in time to see Mr. Argent and some random guys step out of their cars. None of them noticed me, but I'm sure Derek did. Mr. Argent took the windshield cleaner and started to wipe the windshield on the Camaro.

"If you have something that's nice, you wanna take care of it, right? Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love. That's something I learned from my family. You don't have much of that these days, do you?"

_Whoa, not cool! _

Even from the distance, I can see Derek tensing up.

"There you go. Nicer look through your windshield now. See how that makes everything so much clearer?" Mr. Argent walked away.

"You forgot to check the oil," Derek said.

_Okay, I don't think this is the right time to be a tough guy. _

He turned around and smiled, "Check the man's oil."

One of the random guys approached the Camaro with a weapon of some sort. He walked over to the driver's side and bashed the window in.

_Wait— is that a gun? _

"What the hell!" I dropped the bag.

All four men turned and looked at me, but I was only focused on Mr. Argent. He stared at me with a strange look on his face before he put on a smile.

"Camille," he said, "It's late. There's a police enforced curfew."

"I ran into some car trouble . . . "

He glanced between Derek and I with narrowed eyes, "Would you like a ride home?"

"I've got it," Derek said firmly.

Hesitating, he nodded and walked back to his car. Him and his friends drove off, but not before he looked at me through the window with a gleam in his eyes.

"How the hell do you know him?" Derek demanded once they left our sights.

"He's Allison's dad," I started, but was given a blank look, "You know, the girl Scott likes."

He scoffed and shook his head, "Get in."

After ten minutes, we pulled up to my house. Neither of us spoke.

"Here," I said. I reached over and gave him the now bent water bottle.

"Thanks," he said before reaching for his wallet.

"Don't worry about it," I shook my head, "But I would like some answers."

He breathed through his nose, "What is it?"

"What happened back there? There has to be a reason why they did that to your car! And that comment about your family—don't you dare tell me it's none of my business either!"

"The Argents are werewolf hunters. They have been for generations. They know I'm a werewolf—"

"Well, _obviously_," I said, cutting him off. He glared at me.

"They were just threatening me."

"Do they know about Scott?" I asked.

"No. But I'm sure they will soon."

"How did your sister die?" I asked.

He clenched his jaw and looked out the window, "She was missing. I came back here looking for her. I found her in pieces—used as bait to catch me."

"So was it the hunters?"

"No," he shook his head. "It didn't seem like the work of the hunters. But I have a theory."

"Which is?"

"You see, Scott and I are Betas. There's another type—much stronger and faster than we are. They also take a full werewolf form. That's the Alpha."

"The alpha? Do you know who it is?"

"No, but I will." He gripped the wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

I nodded my head, processing the information, "Well thanks for the ride home. I appreciate it. I'll see you around?"

He didn't say anything as I walked out and into my house. I could hear him speeding off down the street. I turned on the light in my room and sat on my computer chair.

_Well, time to get started on Chemistry. _

I pulled out the textbook from my bag and stared at the item that fell out. It was a five-dollar bill.

_Derek. _

I held the bill for a second before flipping open the book.

* * *

**A/N**: How was it? PLEASE let me know what you think! More reviews motivate me to write more/faster. Feel free to suggest things or alert me of any grammar/spelling mistakes that I've made.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: It's been an awfully long time since I've updated. Sorry to those who have been reading! I was busy with school and midterms, but hooray! I'm on spring break now, so I'm hoping to get two or three more chapters out by the end of the week. (Or at least one, really). This is season 1 episode 4. **PLEASE** let me know what you think and if I made any spelling/grammar mistakes! Reviews keep me motivated!

I have also posted character pictures for Camille and her parents on my profile. Check it out if you want.

* * *

_T__hump . . . thump . . . thump . . ._

My backpack hit every step as I walked down to the kitchen. Mom hummed while she made coffee and dad was reading the newspaper. I poured myself a bowl of cereal before sitting down on the table. Dad slid the comic's section across the table towards me.

"I can't believe you, Camille."

My spoon clanked against the bowl. Milk splashed onto the surface of the previously clean table.

_Oh shit—the car! _

I lowered the newspaper and smiled sheepishly at her, "Right, about that, you see—"

"You know, I'm surprised. I know you really wanted a car for your sixteenth birthday and I'm sure you're aware of our financial issues . . . " Mom trailed on.

"What is she talking about? Is she doing some weird diet again? She gets crazy when she doesn't eat meat," I whispered to dad.

"She's thanking you for filling the gas tank," he replied, not taking his eyes off of the newspaper.

"Huh?"

_I am so lost here . . . _

"Your father woke up early this morning to get gas in case you didn't last night, but to our surprise, you did!"

The two of them were too busy to notice my abrupt departure from the table. I grabbed the car keys from the counter opened the front door. There on the driveway was the parked car—the one with the dead battery that I had left on the side of the road. I walked out of the house barefoot ignoring the coldness that seeped through the soles of my feet.

I unlocked the car and sat down on the driver's side. I looked around for anything—_something_—that would give any explanation as to how the car was returned. After five minutes, I slouched in the seat with a huff. I looked around before I focused in on the sun visor. I narrowed my eyes and pushed it open. A scrap of paper flowed down

_Don't worry; I replaced the car battery and filled the gas tank. _

"Derek . . ." I whispered to myself.

A knock on the window shook me out of my thoughts. I screamed and wildly punched the closed window. Mom looked at me with an unimpressed look before she opened the door.

"What are you doing out here?" She looked down at my feet, "And why are you barefoot?!"

I looked around as if an excuse was hidden somewhere. I inconspicuously crumbled up the paper in my hand. Almost crying out in victory, I picked up a hair tie from the floor of the passenger side.

" . . . I was looking for this!" I held it in front of her face triumphantly.

"A hair tie?" She asked skeptically.

"Yeah, it's my—my lucky hair tie. I have a big history test today," I nodded my head so fast, I'm surprised my neck didn't snap.

"Right then, strange child of mine," she said, looking down at the plain back hair tie I held in front of her, "Put your shoes on and grab your stuff."

* * *

"So my aunt Kate will be staying with us for awhile!" Allison said happily.

I grabbed my head as I opened my locker. Allison leaned against the lockers smiling while I tried to find the math homework I had to turn in later that day.

"Is she like super old or is she one of those cool, rad ones? The ones your mom would hate influencing you?"

_Or is she a crazy werewolf hunter? _

"No, she's _totally_ awesome. We're really close—well, as close as one could be with their aunt."

"Sounds better than my aunt. She smells like cat litter and mothballs. She does bake an awesome pumpkin pie though."

She looked at me before laughing, "Hey, why don't you sleepover after the game? It'll be so much fun! We can do what girls normally do at these things . . . like braid each other's hair, paint our nails, and watch sappy chick flicks," she paused at my scrunched up face.

"And we can order pizza?" she offered.

"Allison, babe, if you wanted to convince me, all you had to do was mention pizza," I said and slammed my locker shut. The two of us made our way down the crowded hallway.

"Something was off though," she started, "My dad left at like two in the morning, saying Kate had a flat tire. When I brought it up this morning to her, Kate said she needed a jumpstart."

Not knowing what to say, I shrugged, "Who knows, adults are weird. My dad ate my cupcake once and he said the dog ate it," I paused for dramatic effect, "We don't have a dog. Anyway, I'll see you in class?"

* * *

It was the last class of the day and the boys and I stood with our classmates outside the door. The bell rang and we all shuffled into the stuffy classroom. We chatted while Mrs. Reynolds went around the classroom, handing back our graded test.

"So, if Derek isn't the alpha and he's not the one who bit you, then who did?" Stiles asked Scott.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Did the alpha kill the bus driver?"

"Well, _duh_, Stiles. We already came to the conclusion that neither Scott or Derek did it," I rolled my eyes.

He ignored me, "Do you think Allison's dad knows about the alpha?"

Scott turned to face us and shouted, "I don't know! Okay, jeez!"

Everyone turned and looked at us while Stiles slouched in his seat. Scott sighed before shaking his head and turning to the front of the class.

"Wonderful job, Ms. Theodore," Mrs. Reynolds handed me my test with an "A+" on top.

I glanced at Stiles and we high-fived each other as he got an identical score. Our smiles disappeared once we saw Scott's score

"_Ooooh_," I winced.

"Dude, you need to study more," chastised Stiles.

Scott dropped his test on the desk before releasing an annoyed sigh.

"That was a joke, Scott! C'mon, it's only one test! You'll make it up. Do you need help studying?"

Scott shook his head, rejecting Stiles' offer, "I'm studying with Allison after school today."

"_That's my boy!_" Stiles cheered.

"Gross," I muttered.

"We're just studying," Scott insisted.

"Uh, no. Don't think so, buddy."

"I'm not?"

"Not if I'm forced to live vicariously through you!" Stiles huffed, "If you go to her house today and you squander the colossal opportunity, I swear—I swear to God I'll have you de-balled."

"Nice, Stiles, Nice," said, "That's disgusting and pretty sad."

"Thanks," He smiled at me.

"Okay, just—please stop with the questions, man," Scott pleaded.

"Done. No more questions," Stiles pursed his lips, "No more talk about the alpha or Derek . . . especially Derek—who still scares me by the way."

"You're also scared of my younger cousin," I said.

"HEY! That is a demon child and you know it!" Stiles' voice cracked and he pointed his finger at the two of us.

The rest of the class period was spent reviewing the previous test and Mrs. Reynolds allowed us to do whatever we wanted for the last fifteen minutes. Scott spent his time dozing off while Stiles and I tickled his nose with the drawstring of his hoodie. After many glares from Scott, Stiles and I spent our time doing our own thing. While Stiles doodled in his notebook, I grew impatient with waiting for the after school bell to ring.

"Mrs. Reynolds?" My hand shot up in the air.

"Hm, yes," She peered at me through her glasses.

"May I go to the restroom?" She glanced at the clock and opened her mouth, "It's an emergency," I insisted.

With a wave of her hand, I stood and grabbed my bag. Stiles gaped at me before his eyes narrowed.

"Meet you at your car," I patted his shoulder before leaving the classroom. Before the door closed, a loud _thump_ sounded along with a pitiful moan of pain.

I walked down the empty hallway humming to a random tune when I rounded the corner and saw Derek and Jackson. They were at Jackson's locker and I was pretty disappointed that they had already replaced the door of the locker.

_Must've used mommy and daddy's money to get it fixed this quickly. _

"Where's Scott McCall?" Derek questioned in ragged breaths.

Jackson scoffed and looked at him before closing his locker, "Hm, and why should I tell you?"

"Because I asked you politely and I only do that once."

"Okay, tough guy. How about I help you find him if you tell me what you're selling him. What is it? Dianabol? HGH?"

"Steroids," Derek scoffed. He attempted to maneuver pass Jackson, but was held back.

"No! Girl Scout cookies!" Jackson said angrily, "What the hell do you think I'm talking about? Oh, and uh, whatever it is you're selling . . . I'd stop sampling the merchandise. You look _wrecked_."

_Great, now __**I**_ _want Girl Scout cookies . . . mhhhm, thin mints. _

Derek stared at Jackson with clenched fists, "Forget it. I'll find him myself," he muttered.

"No, we're not done here-" Derek slammed Jackson against the lockers. His hand was placed firmly against Jackson's neck. He removed his hand from the lacrosse captain's neck to reveal his claws.

I gasped at the fresh wound on Jackson's neck. Derek turned to me and walked away from the gasping boy. It was then that I realized how _awful_ Derek looked. His skin was pale and he was covered in sweat.

"Derek, are you okay? You look like shit—I mean," I coughed, "_Heeeey_, how are you doing, man? Looking good . . ."

He glared at me, "Where's Scott?"

Before I could answer him, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Derek groaned and slumped against the wall. His eyes were clenched shut and he covered his ears with the palm of his hands. He breathed heavily for a few seconds after the bell rang and dropped his hands down to his sides. He slowly looked up from the floor before reaching my face.

"I need to find Scott," he rasped.

"Y-yeah, of course. He's heading to Allison's to study, but I think we can catch him in the parking lot."

He slowly nodded before, surprisingly, keeping up with my brisk pace out to the parking lot. I held my hand up to my forehead, attempting to shield the glaring sun from my eyes.

_C'mon Scotty, where are you? _

The sound of screeching tires caught my attention. In the middle of the parking lot, Derek stood with his arms outstretched towards Stile's jeep. I ran to him in time to soften his fall towards the concrete floor.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Stiles exclaimed and looked around.

"Stiles! A little help here?" I huffed as I attempted to pick Derek up.

I ignored the honking of the cars that were currently lined up behind Stile's jeep. Derek was able to sit up with my support, but still couldn't stand on his legs.

"What the hell," Scott questioned running up to us. He and Stiles joined us in front of the car, "What are you doing here?!"

"I got shot," Derek told him in between shaky breaths.

"He's not looking so good," Stiles commented.

"Yeah, and the sun sets in the west. Anything else you would like to add, Captain Obvious?" I glared at him. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Why aren't you healing?" asked Scott.

"It was a different kind of bullet—" Derek started.

"A silver bullet?!" interrupted Stiles.

Derek and I glared at him, "No, you idiot."

"Wait- that's what she meant when she said you had 48 hours."

"What? Who-who said that?" asked Derek.

"I-I don't know, the one who shot you! She was talking to Allison's dad. I didn't recognize her though."

"That's Kate, Allison's aunt," I told them. The three of them turned to look at me in surprise. I shrugged, "She came in last night. Apparently she's staying with them for awhile."

Derek groaned in pain and his eyes flashed to an icy blue before returning back to his normal green hues.

"What are you doing? Stop that!" Scott exclaimed.

Derek's eyes continued to change colors, "That's what I'm trying to tell you! I can't!"

A crowd started to form around us at a distance and the honking of cars grew more consistent. From the corner of my eye, I saw Allison emerge from her car, attempting to see pass the cars.

"We have to move him to the car," I said. Scott nodded and easily grasped his arm and pulled him up to a standing position. Once he got him into a standing position, he helped Derek into the passenger side.

"I need you to help me find out what kind of bullet they used," Derek addressed Scott.

"How do you expect me to do that?!" Scott cried.

"Look, she's an Argent. She's with them."

"And why should I help you?"

I gaped at Scott and narrowed my eyes, "Because you need him, Scott!"

They turned to me in surprise before Scott sighed in defeat, "Fine, I'll try. Now get him out of here."

"I hate you so much for this. You have to do a lot of best friend sucking up to do to pay me back for this!" Stiles groaned once he sat down in the driver's seat.

"Oh shit," I muttered.

"I'll take care of it," Scott reassured us and bid us goodbye before walking up to the now approaching Allison. From the distance I could see her narrowed eyes focused in on us.

I climbed into the backseat and ordered Stiles to drive.

* * *

"Hey, what was he doing here?" Allison asked Scott.

"Stiles was uhm, giving him a ride—long story," Scott answered.

"I thought you said you weren't friends with him?" She asked with raised eyebrows and peered over his shoulder to see Camille staring at them.

"N-not really . . . Uh, he and Cam have some sort of history so they're trying to figure things out—we're still studying later, right?"

Allison watched Camille climb into the back seat of Stile's jeep. She pursed her lips before nodding at Scott.

"Great, uh, I'll meet you back at your place?"

"Yeah," She said. The two smiled at each other before they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Neither of them noticed the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy listening in. He hopped on his bike and went off to his job at the Beacon Hills graveyard.

* * *

"Damn, that Scott guy is a flake. Why are we friends with him again?" I asked Stiles. I've been texting him for the past twenty minutes, but it was useless as he hasn't replied.

Neither of them said anything as Stiles continued down the road. Derek grunted in pain as he took off his leather jacket. His skin seemed to be even paler than it was at school.

"Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there," nagged Stiles.

"C'mon, Stiles. This car is like super old, even Scott has bled on your seats before," I rolled my eyes.

"Are you kidding me?! Only because you elbowed him and he got a bloody nose!"

"Almost where? Where are you taking me?" Derek interrupted us.

"Your house," Stiles simply stated.

"What?" "You're an idiot," Derek and I said at the same time.

"You can't take me there."

"I can't take you to your own house?" Stiles cried incredulously, unable to believe what he just heard.

"Not when I can't protect myself," Derek said.

Stiles gripped the steering wheel before pulling over to the side of the road. I placed my hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him down.

"Look, what happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?" he shouted.

"Not yet," Derek replied firmly, "I have a last resort."

"What do you mean? What last resort—" Stiles was cut short, however, due to Derek pulling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He revealed a bullet wound in the middle of his arm that contrasted against his pale skin. Bloodstains splattered around the wound.

"Oh-Oh my God. What is that? Oh is that contagious? You know what, you should probably just get out," Stiles gagged repeatedly and stuck his head out the window.

I grimaced and handed Derek an alcohol wipe I had in my bag. He looked at me wearily before accepting it.

"Start the car. Now," ordered Derek.

"I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead."

"Whoa, Stiles, chill out before that vein on your forehead pops. Plus, his ass is pretty big, I don't think you would be able to drag him out of the car," I teased. Stiles turned and looked at me in disbelief.

"Keep calling Scott," ordered Stiles. He turned off the ignition and we sat in silence while I attempted to reach Scott.

It was probably an hour until I finally reached him, "What are we supposed to do with him?"

"I don't know! Take him somewhere—anywhere!"

"He smells by the way, he's starting to smell," Stiles exclaimed.

"Like what?"

"LIKE DEATH!" I screamed wildly into the speaker.

"Ow—Cam! We're on the phone, no need to yell! Take him to the animal clinic."

"What about your boss?"

"Well he's gone by now. There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster."

"Whoa, that's real original, Scott. Did Deaton trust you to put that in a safe spot?"

Derek motioned me to hand him the phone, "Did you find it? If you don't find it, I'm dead, all right?"

Stiles and I watched as his eyes darkened, "Think about this. The alpha called you out against your will. He's going to do it again. Next time you either kill _with _him or you _get_ killed. So if you want to stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet."

* * *

It wasn't long until we pulled up to the animal clinic. Stiles went ahead first to retrieve the key while I helped Derek out of the car. I struggled to help him before we finally reached the back door and he fell over the pile of dog food. I bent over, trying to catch my breath. After a few moments, I glared at Stiles who stood by the door.

"Where the hell were you?" I huffed.

"The dumpster was heavy! The dumpster was filled with a lot of paper and boxes, they should recycle more," he rambled on.

"Just open the door," Derek grumbled from his slouched position.

My phone vibrated from my pocket.

_Northern Blue Monkshood. _

"'Does Northern Blue Monkshood' mean anything to you?" I glanced at Derek.

"It's a rare form of wolfs bane," he explained, "He has to bring me the bullet."

"Why?" questioned Stiles.

Derek let out a ragged breath before looking up at the two of us, "Cause I'm going to die without it."

* * *

I flipped on the switch in an exam room and the two of them followed me in. Surprisingly, Stiles helped lead Derek into the room. Once inside, Derek pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing his torso . . . and his wound.

"_Blech_, gross. That seriously wins for the most disgusting thing I've ever seen, and I've helped Stiles with his laundry before."

Stiles scoffed, "It wasn't that bad."

"Bro," I placed my hand on his shoulder, "Your shirt shouldn't be crusty."

"Shut up," Derek growled. He turned his back to us, revealing not only a perfectly muscled back, but also a triple spiral tattoo.

"I've seen that before . . . " I trailed off.

"What?" grunted Derek who was rummaging through the drawers.

"You know, that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn't take care of," Stiles said before grabbing a hold of my arm, "Let's go Cam."

Derek slammed a drawer back into place and the two of us jumped at the sudden noise, "When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me."

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles quipped.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time—I have a last resort."

"Do we really want to know?" I asked.

Derek turned around and placed a handsaw onto the exam table. He looked up at us expectantly. Stiles and I looked back at him in shock.

"You're gonna cut off my arm."

"NOSE GOES!" I yelled and immediately placed my pointer finger on top of my nose.

"Not fair!" Stiles groaned and glared at me when I stuck my tongue out.

"B-but, oh God. What if you bleed to death?"

"It'll heal if it works." Derek insisted as he wrapped the blue elastic over his bicep.

Stiles gagged, "Look—This is a great plan and all, but I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Stiles shouted, throwing his hands up, "The cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and oh—especially the blood!"

"You faint at the sight of blood?" asked Derek exasperatedly. He dropped his injured arm heavily onto the table and glared at him.

"Oh man, you should see him with a paper cut," I nodded my heard enthusiastically.

"All right, fine. How about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head." Derek growled through heavy breaths.

"Okay, you know what. I'm so not buying your threats any—" Derek grabbed Stiles' collar so they were face to face, "Oh God. Okay, Yup, all right, bought and sold. Totally. I'll do it. Wh-what re you doing?"

Suddenly, Derek began to gag and he leaned against the table. Within seconds, he threw up a bubbly black substance all over the floor. I made my way to him, grimacing at the vomit-like liquid, before grabbing a hold of his uninjured arm and gave him support. Derek placed his cheek onto the cool table before explaining.

"What the hell is that?" Stiles exclaimed.

"M-my body is trying to heal itself."

"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it," Stiles scrunched his face in disgust.

"Now. You gotta do it now," Derek said to us in heavy breaths.

"Look," Stiles said hesitatingly, "Honestly, I don't think I can."

"JUST DO IT!" Derek yelled.

Stiles and I looked at each other in fear before he reached for the saw. I grabbed Derek's sweaty hand and placed my other one on his back, holding him down. Stiles looked at me with wide eyes and then looked down upon Derek. With uncertainty written over his face, he was a second away from turning on the saw when a voice interrupted our operation.

"Stiles! Cam!"

"Scott?!" I called out in hope.

Scott emerged from the dark hallway and surveyed the scene, "What the hell are you guys doing?"

"Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares!" Stiles said breathlessly.

"Did you get it?" Derek asked from his position over the table. Scott handed him the bullet from his pocket. Derek held the bullet at eye level.

"What are you going to do with it?" questioned Stiles.

"I-I'm gonna—" Derek began in heavy breaths before toppling over, taking me down with him.

"Okay, big guy," I groaned, pushing him off me and sitting up, "Derek?"

Stiles rushed over and slapped his face, attempting to wake him up, "Derek. Derek, come on! Wake up! Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?"

"I don't know! I can't reach it!" Scott grunted from his position on the ground. The bullet had rolled away from Derek's grasp and into the drain on the floor.

"He's not waking up!" I yelled.

"I think he's dying, oh God—I think he's dead!" Stiles exclaimed. We looked at each other in fear of what was happening.

_IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?! _

"Just hold on! Come on! Wait, I got it! I got it!" Scott said.

"What do we do?" Stiles asked me.

I looked at him cluelessly before an idea came to me. With my good hand, I made a fist and pulled it back.

"What are you doing?" Stiles wondered.

Before I could answer him, my fist had made contact with Derek's face. He awoke at once and looked at me in shock as I shook my hand in pain. Tears sprung to my eyes, but I held it back.

_MOTHER FU—NOTE TO SELF: NEVER PUNCH A WEREWOLF . . . except Scott, maybe. _

Scott scurried over with the bullet and gave it to Derek. The two boys helped him to the table. Derek bit the bullet open and dumped the contents onto the surface of the table. We looked at him wonder, not knowing what to expect. Suddenly, he lit the substance on fire and it crackled like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. Once the sparks died down to wispy blue smoke, he scooped it onto the palm of his hand and inserted it into his wound.

His screams echoed through the room and I watched hopelessly as he fell to the ground. None of us made our way towards him, as there was nothing we could do to soothe the pain. He writhed on the floor for a few moments before his arm began to change. Slowly but surely, the blood and black veins disappeared and eventually, so did the wound.

"That. Was. Awesome! Yes!" cheered Stiles. We high-fived each other in victory and delight at what just happened. Scott looked at us wearily.

"Are you okay?" he asked Derek.

Returning to his normal skin color, but still sweaty, Derek propped himself up to a sitting position. He glared at him, "Well, except for the agonizing pain."

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health," Stiles mumbled. I slapped his arm while Derek gave him a menacing glare.

"Okay, look, we saved your life. Which means you're gonna leave us alone, you got that? And if you don't, I'll tell Allison's dad everything—"

"Scott I don't think that's a good—" I said, but was interrupted by Derek.

"You're going to trust them? You actually think that they can help you?" he growled.

"Well, why not?" questioned Scott, "They're a lot freaking nicer than you are."

"Scott, I don't think you understand what's going on here," I said. Scott looked at me, but ignored my comment.

"I can show you exactly how nice they are," Derek said darkly.

Scott looked at him with a confused expression, "What do you mean?"

Derek told Scott to follow him and he looked at me expectantly, silently asking me if I wanted to go. I pursed my lips and shook my head. I didn't know where they were going, but I knew it was something Scott had to see with Derek, alone.

"Why don't you guys go? Stiles and I will clean up before we leave," I offered.

"Wh-I never agreed to this!" Stiles protested.

The two left and Stiles sat on top of the counter. He watched me clean the black substance Derek threw up on the ground. I sprayed the floor with some cleaner and wiped it with some paper towels.

"Why did you help Derek earlier?"

I stopped wiping for a second before continuing, "What do you mean?"

Stiles released an annoyed sigh, "You know what I mean, Cam. What, do you have feelings for him or something? Because I totally disapprove!"

"No!" I laughed, "It's not like that."

"Then what is it?"

I bit my lip, "Everyone needs someone for support, Stiles. Whether they accept it or not."

_The triple spiral tattoo is familiar. I swear I've seen it before . . ._

* * *

**A/N:** I've changed the fact that Stiles' jeep is a two seater to a four seater.

Please let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I don't think there's much going on in this chapter, just sort of an intro-ish to the episode (Season 1, episode 5). This chapter doesn't even cover a quarter into the episode. I decided to end it here because I thought over 5,000+ words would be too long. Not to worry though, I have a good part of chapter 8 written. Let me know if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes! I would appreciate it!

* * *

"What do you feel like tonight? Chinese? Mexican? Italian?" Dad pulled out of the driveway and drove into the direction of downtown Beacon Hills.

"Chinese, definitely Chinese." I said and fumbled with the radio. I sighed in defeat and slouched into the seat as only commercials were on.

"Your mother hates Chinese food."

"Exactly!" Dad and I looked at each other with identical smirks.

Mom had sent us to buy takeout because she wanted "family night". She sent me out with dad because she was getting annoyed with my whining. We pulled up to Golden Dragon, which was located in a plaza filled with other restaurants and random stores.

"Don't forget the orange chicken! And extra fried rice—you always eat mine!" I called out the window. Dad waved his hand in acknowledgement before entering the restaurant.

I propped my foot up the dashboard and bobbed my head with the beat of the song playing on the radio. After I jammed out to some old school Backstreet Boys, I turned my head and noticed someone sitting on a table outside the burger place a few stores down.

_Isaac. _

I looked inside Golden Dragon to see dad laughing with the owner, Mrs. Tao. It was fairly busy inside so I removed the keys form the ignition and stepped out of the car. I approached him and once I was close enough I took note of his appearance. Despite the warm night, he wore a gray hoodie and jeans. He sat by himself and was munching on fries.

"Isaac!" I smiled as I approached him. He jumped and looked around wildly before spotting my figure.

He gave me a timid smile and replied softly, "H-hello Camille."

"Why are you eating here by yourself?" I questioned and sat down across from him.

"I'm on break right now. Decided to grab a bite to eat before my shift starts again."

"Oh, you work? Cool. Where at?"

"A-at the graveyard. My dad owns it."

"Spooky," I stated, "Mind if I have some fries?"

"S-sure," he nodded his head and pushed the bag of fries towards me, "What are your plans for tonight?"

I shrugged, "Lousy date. He's inside now getting food. Sucker didn't even notice that I left. Too busy flirting with some lady inside."

"Oh, th-that's too bad—" he stuttered with wide eyes.

"I'm kidding!" I laughed, "I have some family thing tonight. My dad's inside getting some takeout."

He blushed, "That's cool. My family hasn't done stuff like that since . . . " he trailed off before looking down at the table.

Noticing the change in his demeanor, I placed my hand over his and smiled, "They're not that fun anyways. You should see my family on game night. Monopoly has been tearing families apart since 1904."

It was the first time I've seen him laugh. His lips quirked up and revealed a set of straight, perfect teeth. The lines around his eyes crinkled. His eyes, which were usually guarded, became glossy with memories.

"I remember when we were little and my brother Camden was up against my mom. Dad and I went bankrupt pretty quickly, so we just sat there and watched. Eventually Camden started to lose and he got pretty upset when he was thrown into jail. He wanted to quit. Mom and I thought it was hilarious. My dad got fed up though, he . . . " Isaac trailed off with a strange look on his face, "He-he, uh, took him into his room and gave him a lecture about how Laheys never quit."

"Camden's your brother?" I asked and furrowed my eyebrows.

"Y-yeah, you knew him?" he asked hesitatingly.

I laughed, "Yeah, he taught me how to swim when I was younger. He was the reason why I made varsity swim my freshman year."

"Do you still swim?" he asked with a thoughtful look on his face, as if he was trying to remember me.

"Nah," I waved my hand, "I injured my shoulder awhile back. Never felt the same. Didn't help that Finstock kept pressuring me to join track. What's Camden up to nowadays?" I munched on some fries.

Isaac tensed up and said, "He passed away, actually. Killed in combat awhile back."

"Oh shit—" I choked on some fries

_How did I not know? Well, it's not like I knew they were related . . . and he was technically just my swim instructor . . . Damn. _

I looked over at Isaac. His eyes were focused on a spot on the table and he clenched his jaw. I licked my suddenly dry lips and walked over to the seat adjacent to his. I sat down and slowly wrapped my arms around his rigid frame. He remained that way until he slowly relaxed and hesitated before he returned the hug.

"Camden was a pretty cool guy. He always talked about his little brother," I said as I stroked his back softly.

He breathed in sharply, "H-he did?"

I pulled back, but kept my arms on him, "Yeah, always said he was proud of him."

I laughed when he smiled like a little kid who was allowed to eat a cookie before dinner. It was then that I noticed how _attractive _he really was. My eyes traced his features, absorbing as much as I could. His messy, brown curly hair and his well-defined lips. His eyes were a brilliant shade of blue.

"What?" he asked, wiping his chin with his sleeve, "Do I have something on my face?"

I blushed as I realized I was staring. Good thing he was oblivious to it. I shook my head, "No, it's nothing."

"Oh, well, you have a little something right here . . ." he motioned to my upper lip.

_Oh God, Camille! _

I quickly scanned the table for a napkin, but couldn't find one. My face and neck grew hot with embarrassment.

"I gotta go—" I tried, but was interrupted.

"No, here," Isaac said and wiped the ketchup off with his thumb. His eyes widened as he realized what he did and quickly wiped it off with a dirty napkin.

"Ahem," a deep voice sounded.

We snapped our head to the figure in front of us. Dad looked at us with an unimpressed look on his face. He pursed his lips and looked between Isaac and I.

"What do you think you're doing with my daughter?" he asked slowly.

Isaac and I avoided eye contact, but I could practically hear his heartbeat racing.

"S-sorry, sir," Isaac apologized.

"What's your name, son?"

"Isaac. Isaac Lahey."

"Play any sports?"

"U-uh yeah, l-lacrosse," he stuttered.

Dad pursed his lips, "Come along now, Camille. Your mother is waiting. There's nothing she hates more than Chinese food and people who are late," he said. He gave Isaac one more look before turning around and walking to the car.

"And here I thought it couldn't be more embarrassing," I groaned.

Isaac let out a small laugh, "I better get going. My shift starts in half an hour."

I nodded and stood up with him. I watched him as he picked up his trash and threw it in the trash bin. We stood by his bike silently for a few minutes.

"So I—" "It was—" we said at the same time.

"You go first," he offered with a shy smile.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled, "I'll see you in Chemistry tomorrow?"

He winced before nodding his head, "Not exactly looking forward to a class that I'm almost failing."

"I can help you—if you want, of course . . . Harris hates me, but he can't deny me of my grades!"

"S-sure," he stuttered as if he didn't hear me correctly, "I would like that. A lot."

"CAMILLE!" Dad's voice yelled from the car.

I stuck my tongue out at him before I turned to Isaac who seemed prepared to leave. Balancing on my toes, I threw my arms around his taller frame. His arms stayed by his sides for a moment before he slowly wrapped his arms around my waist. I breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of the woods and a hint of mint.

"I should go," I said and pulled away. With a smile and a wave, I turned and walked to the car.

"How nice of you to rush over, darlin'," Dad commented. He was leaning against the driver's door with the takeout bag on the hood of the car, "Keys?"

"Oops?" I said sheepishly and tossed him the keys.

He started the car and began to drive. It was silent the first few minutes, but I could tell he wanted to say something.

_This is going to be awkward . . . _

"Who was that boy?" he asked, eyes focused on the road.

"Some boy from school," I replied shortly.

He breathed deeply through his nose before he turned the radio down.

"All right, listen up, Camille. As your father, I'm supposed to give you some fatherly and wise advice at this time in your life. Listen up, if you're wondering if a boy's thinking about you, he's not."

I snorted, "Thanks for the confidence boost, dad."

"And do you know what he's _really_ thinking about? He's thinking about sex or he's hungry. Those are the only two options."

"Are you trying to be funny? Am I being punk'd? Am I going to meet Ashton?"

"No, stop it, I'm not finished. Listen to me. Boys think about sex every single minute of the day. That's just what they do, that's why they lie. They're gonna leave you waiting around for them to call and they won't. They're gonna be cruel and they're gonna be misleading."

He pulled up to the driveway and into the garage. Once parked, he removed the keys. We sat in a quiet, awkward silence before he spoke again.

"And your mother wanted me to add this, that by in large, lacrosse players are the worst offenders."

_Okay dad, I'm __**so**__ sure it was mom who said that . . . _

"Are you done?" I questioned and looked at him with an amused smile.

He looked at me and grabbed the sides of my face with both hands. He squished my cheeks together and looked at me seriously, "You are beautiful. You are sensitive and you are sweet. I don't want to see you get hurt."

I grabbed the sides of his face and did the same, "I love you too, dad. Now let go of my face."

He released his hold on my face and said, "Let's go, your mom will be so pissed."

Opening the door, two things were fairly obvious. One, the TV was gone. Like absolutely hidden from sight. Two, mom had taken out every board game we had in the closet and placed them on the table. We paused in the doorway and stared at mom who had a creepy look on her face.

"Sweetheart," Dad said slowly, "Where's the TV?"

"Oh, that old thing?" She laughed, "It's out back. It's family time! I was watching a talk show today that said TV ruins family connection! So here we are. Connecting!" She nodded her head happily and gestured between us.

"I would like to be disowned," I requested with wide eyes, "Please!"

"Okay, how about this. Camille here will go out to rent a movie while the two of us," he gestured between him and mom, "Will bring the TV back in. How about that?"

Mom pouted, but knew we weren't going to spend any time together if she continue pushing us. With a huff, she stomped up the stairs yelling, "You guys never let me have any fun!"

"I'm serious," I started, "Is she not eating any meat?"

Dad scrunched his face before nodding his head, "I'll take care of her. Just no sappy chick flicks okay?"

With a sigh, I grabbed the car keys and headed back out to downtown Beacon Hills. Turning into the parking lot, I parked near the entrance. The parking lot was empty except for my car.

"Kevin?" I called out for the usual rental clerk. There wasn't a reply. It was awfully quiet, almost too quiet. Some of the light panels were flickering off and on. I shrugged assuming he was in the restroom or something.

_Hmmm, what movie . . . Moneyball? Nah, mom would complain nonstop. Bridesmaids? Blah, saw that last week. Drive? I love some Ryan Gosling. _

The bell above the door rang, notifying me that someone came in. I looked over the shelf to see Jackson.

"Hello?" Jackson called out, "Can somebody help me find The Notebook?"

I laughed, "Is Lydia against your movie choices again?"

He jumped at the sound of my laughter before his eyes spotted my figure a few shelves down. With an annoyed sigh, he nodded his head.

"What are you doing here, Camille? Another lonely night by yourself?" He teased.

I sneered and stuck my tongue out at him, "Whatever Jackson, I'm not the one watching The Notebook tonight." I nearly laughed as I caught him clenching his jaw in annoyance.

"Is anyone working here?" He called out.

"I don't see the usual guy around here, he must be in the back," I said, "Here, I'll help you find it."

Together, we walked down the aisle attempting to find the movie. I scanned the movie titles, but came up with nothing. Suddenly, Jackson held on to my arm, preventing me from walking any further. I shook my arm from his grasp.

"What the hell are you doing, Jackson?" I barked.

He didn't reply, however. His attention was focused on something in front of us. A ladder was positioned under a flickering light panel. It looked like someone was in the process of changing it. That wasn't what caught Jackson's eye—no. It was the pair of shoes that stuck out from the aisle.

_Oh God—if this is what I think it is . . . _

Jackson stuck his arm out in front of me, but didn't stop me as we both slowly approached the shoes. It felt like years before we finally peered over the wooden case and spotted Kevin, dead. His neck was covered in blood from the cut on his throat. Blood was scattered everywhere, lining against the white paint of the shelves. It wasn't until I tripped over my foot and landed in a puddle of blood that I had I let out a bloodcurdling scream.

I brought my bloody palms up a few inches away from my face and looked between my hands and Kevin.

"Oh my God, oh my God, _fuck!" _I began to hyperventilate, struggling to breathe properly.

Jackson, in shock and fear, stepped backwards into the ladder. It tumbled down, knocking down the hanging light and caused all the lights to flicker.

"Ca-Camille—we have to get out of here," he said in a shaky voice. He grabbed my arm and I let him pull me to the direction of the door. We didn't make it far though, as Jackson came to a stop after a few steps.

Even from the dark, we could see the monster's red eyes. He was black and covered in fur. We wouldn't have been able to see it if it wasn't for the crimson red pupils. We stared at it while it stared back. I grasped Jackson's leather clad arms with my blood stained palms in fear. The monster's breathing was louder than the heartbeat in my ears. I couldn't do anything, but stare back in fright.

Luckily I had Jackson with me.

_Whoa, never thought I'd ever say that. _

Jackson pushed me into an aisle and fell down to a crouch. He tried to look at me reassuringly, but I could still see the fear in his eyes. With a nod, he turned his face back to the aisle before peering behind the shelf. I waited for his response, but after awhile his tense body slowly relaxed. He breathed a sigh of relief before jumping as I heard DVDS falling off shelves on the other side of the store.

"What do we do?" I asked frantically, but Jackson only looked back with wide eyes.

Behind us, shelves began to topple over. It caused a domino effect on all the shelves. The fallen shelves were closing on ours and before I knew it, Jackson pushed me out of the way. I toppled over in the middle of the walkway and I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized I was safe from the shelves.

"Jackson—" I called out, but stopped when I saw the shelf cover half of his body. He groaned in pain from the weight. The monster began approaching us and I scurried off to the aisle directly across from Jackson. I watched helplessly as it crouched over Jackson's vulnerable form.

The monster's claws pulled back the collar of Jackson's leather jacket and I released a frightened squeak.

_What was he going to do with him? Oh God—he's going to kill him! _

The monster snapped it's head towards me and seemed to almost . . . smile at me sinisterly. It approached me slowly and the adrenaline in me told me to run. I didn't get too far as it grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. I fell painfully on my back and I closed my eyes tightly when I felt the hot breath fan my face.

I clenched my fists tightly—my attempt to think of anything else, but the beast on top of me.

_I'm going to die, I'm going to die. _

It seemed to inhale deeply before roaring in my face. I scrunched my face in fear and released a cry.

"Pl-please don't hurt me!" I sobbed loudly and painfully. There was a part of my brain that wondered why I was speaking to it like it would understand me.

"Please!" I sobbed again.

Within seconds, the monster disappeared from his position on top of me and ran off. The sound of broken glass told me it ran through the window. Lydia's scream and Jackson's calling of my name was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

* * *

"Her heart rate is still beating irregularly. Stitches won't be required as her cuts aren't too deep," a male's voice said above me.

_Where am I? What happened? _

I felt my eyelids pull back and a light entered my eyes one at a time.

"Pupils are responsive."

"Am I dead?" I groaned. I opened my eyes to see a smiling young man look down on me.

_Whoa, hottie alert. _

"Yup, I'm definitely dead. You're hot, by the way. Are all the other citizens of Heaven as hot as you? If so, sign me up."

He laughed deeply and shook his head, "No. You just blacked out. Sorry to disappoint you."

"As expected. What happened exactly?"

"A mountain lion wandered into the video store and killed the guy who worked there. Attacked you and your friend too. Big guy escaped," the EMT replied.

I sat up and nodded. It was then that I took in my surroundings. Multiple police cars were scattered around the parking lot. Beside the ambulance next to me, there was another parked up front with Lydia and Jackson. A couple of the policemen held a large group of people back from the scene.

"Here, take this," the EMT handed me a thick, wool blanket. I nodded in appreciation and he smiled before walking away.

It was when I was alone did I finally comprehend what happened. I felt numb—empty. That was the only way I could describe it. I just sat there staring at nothing in particular. I didn't know how long I sat there before a voice called out to me.

"C-Camille?"

I slowly looked up and stared blankly at Stiles.

"Oh my God—Camille, are you okay?" he pushed past the policemen and lifted his arms towards me, but stopped when I flinched.

His face subtlety fell, but I knew he wasn't expecting it. He opened his mouth a few times before settling on pursing his lips.

"Stiles, I thought I told you to stay in the car—Camille!" the Sheriff looked at me in shock. His face looked grim as he took in my expressionless appearance.

"D-do you want me to call your parents to pick you up?" he asked.

His eyes softened when I didn't reply. He released a deep sigh before softly resting his hand on my back.

"Why don't you stay put and I'll take you home," he offered. I nodded and continued to stare vacantly in front of me.

* * *

The ride was relatively silent as the Sheriff drove me home. My eyes were fixated at the passing scenery outside the window, but I could tell from the corner of my eyes that the Stillinksi men were exchanging glances.

We pulled up to the curb outside the house. The lights that were on before I left were still lit. How long have I been out for? An hour? Two? Were they worried?

"I'll walk you in, Camille," Mr. Stilinksi said as he opened my door.

We didn't exchange words as we made our way up to the door. He rang the doorbell and it wasn't long before the door swung open. Dad's face was casual until he took in the two of us. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. After a few seconds, he stepped forward and pulled me into a tight hug.

When I was younger, dad would be the person I went to. If I was injured, I had problems with others, or if I was just looking for mom—he was the first one I spoke to. His hugs have always comforted me in any situation. He made me feel safe when no one else could—beside mom, of course. I was a daddy's girl and he was the one I went to.

When he pulled me into his hug, I didn't know how to react. I felt tired and suffocated, and I just wanted the night to be over. It wasn't until I had inhaled dad's scent—coffee and the same cologne he's had since before I was born I slowly wrapped my arms around him and I felt myself come apart.

I began to cry hysterically, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. I didn't care that Mr. Stilinksi was still on our doorstep or the fact that Stiles could probably see us from the car. It didn't matter. All I knew was that dad was here to protect me. And so was mom.

"Nate, who rang the doorbell . . ." Mom trailed off, taking in the scene. Her face grew white once she took note of my crying and appearance.

"What on earth happened?" She demanded Mr. Stilinski.

His eyes shifted between us before he replied in a hushed tone, "There was a mountain lion attack at the video store."

Mom gasped before thanking him and said goodbye. She closed the door behind her and slowly approached us.

"Oh, sweetie," she cooed and wrapped her arms around me. I jumped from dad to her as she brushed my hair out of my tear-streaked face.

The red numbers from the alarm clock told me it was 4:25 A.M. I feigned sleep for mom and dad's benefit. How did they expect me to sleep? When every time I closed my eyes, I can still see the crimson eyes staring at me? Or having the feeling of Kevin's blood on my skin. I rubbed my skin raw in the shower once I knew my parents where sleeping.

I breathed in deeply as I sat in bed, staring at the plain purple wall in front of me. I couldn't sleep. Not like this. I had to close the window at one point because the warm breeze reminded me of the monster's hot breath that fanned against my face. An alert at midnight alerted me that Allison's birthday was today. In all the werewolf chaos, I haven't had time to buy her a gift.

After another few minutes of silence, I whipped back the blanket and swung my legs over the bed. I almost hissed at the coldness from the hardwood floors, but I keep walking. I make my way down to the kitchen and turned on the light. I opened the cupboards, scanning for ingredients.

"Mountain lion, mountain lion," I whispered to myself, "Mountain lion . . ."

_Yeah, that's it, Camille. It was just a mountain lion. _

I stopped stirring when a pounding headache kicked in.

_No. It wasn't a mountain lion was it? The alpha. _

I blinked and stared down at the chocolate flavored batter. I tightened my grip on the wooden spoon and clenched my jaw. It wasn't long before autopilot kicked in as I continued to make the cupcakes.

* * *

**A/N:** So it's not much, but there's some development between Isaac and Camille. Please, please, review!

I also took the speech Camille's dad gave her about boys from the show, Friday Night Lights. And I guess the whole face grabbing would also be from Boy Meets World in some way.


End file.
